Survivor
by RaymondS
Summary: Learning of his father's death, Fox's life is dramatically changed forever, and he is plunged into a deep depression. Will he find peace and rise to a greater destiny? Or will fear and sorrow consume him to his very soul? COMPLETED, Ch 11 and 12 added
1. Prolouge: The Elder's Fall

The Son's Loss  
  
A Star Fox story  
  
By Raymond M. Sienkiewicz  
  
Author's Note: This story is not only my first Star Fox story, but it's also one of my stories that are meant to make you think a little bit, in other words put yourself in the characters position to make full sense of it. It doesn't contain too much action, but rather answers the question of Fox's feelings after his father's death, it looks into the "emotional hell" he went through. I've seen far too many stories that are like "Fox, your father is dead." "Waaaahhhh!! (runs away and cries) (Next day) " How are ya Fox?" "Im fine, father wouldn't want me sad". Come on, what is that? I basically added depth, enough depth to where it makes me think a bit about the whole thing, and know what's going on. .Wait…that was too poetic…whatever. Anyways, just a warning for action seekers. I hope you enjoy this. Please do review. The more compliments I get, the faster ill try to finish the story, I promise ^_^ This story is also a bit long, so you if you want to read the whole thing, you may want to put it under favorites.  
  
Legal stuff: I don't own the original star fox characters and ships, but everything else is mine (Mr Stripeton, Master Chan, High Flying Dinin Café, Cornerian Motors Firestar XCR 7, etc.) Essentially, anything Nintendo didn't have in the original SF or SF64story is mine. If you wish to use any of my ideas in your fics, please e mail me at Raym2000@aol.com along with a sample of your story and what purpose the idea will be used for. Copyright 2002 Raymond Sienkiewicz (little circle c thing)  
  
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3 Prologue: The Elder's fall  
  
James McCloud was silent, as he sat in the cockpit of his Arwing. Silent, because he was going into uncharted territory, territory in which anything could happen. This place was the planet Venom. About 1 week ago, General Pepper of the Cornerian sent him and the Star Fox team on a mission to investigate some mysterious signals. He had reason to be suspicious. Not only was Venom uninhabited, but also it is where the mad scientist Andross was sent into exile for his biological experiments that turned Corneria into a partial wasteland in certain populated areas.  
  
The standard Cornerian fighter pilots were most definitely not up for a task of that magnitude, so General Pepper hired the Star Fox team to investigate. This team consisted of James, Peppy Hare, and Pigma Dengar.  
  
So far, there had been nothing happening. It had been noticed though that the planet that was not in so bad a condition before, is now a barren wasteland, with not a single plant on the craggy surface, and not a inch of air untouched by the putrid yellow atmosphere. Obviously, something strange was going on. James was beginning to grow suspicious by the second, as there was not a thing out there that was capable of sending signals, nor was there even anything to begin with. He decided to talk to his wing mates to see if they noticed anything.  
  
"Peppy, have you noticed anything?"  
  
"Sorry James, I haven't see a thing on my scanners."  
  
"Pigma, what about you?"  
  
"Eh…Nothing at all chief, nothing at all….."  
  
"What? Just what the hell is going on here? Well…keep sharp boys. We have no idea what happens in these parts anymore."  
  
They continued flying for about 5 minutes, noticing nothing but what had already been noticed, how toxic the sky looked, and how barren the land was because of something which they have yet to discover. Then something happened. James noticed that Pigma was breaking away from their formation and head away, all without warning nor provication. He began to grow very suspicious now.  
  
"Hey Pigma, what's goin' on? You see something?" questioned James.  
  
"………." Pigma said nothing.  
  
"Pigma what's going on?"  
  
Then out of nowhere, among the eerie silence, came Peppy's voice, carrying a heavy air of shock.  
  
"James! Up ahead! A few squads of fighters!"  
  
"What?! Why didn't we detect them?"  
  
"I- I don't know! They must've hidden away somehow! But what in the hell are fighters doing here?!"  
  
That's when the fighters began to fire upon the team, sending red beams of hot light past their Arwings. James knew what this meant, a battle to the end, no escape considering the numbers, and how nimble the enemy ships seemed. Focusing, he spoke to his wingmates.  
  
"Alright guys, lets go kick some tail!"  
  
The battle began to rage on for minutes, with both sides pulling daring stunts, enemys quickly falling, only to be replaced again by another. But to James, something just simply didn't make sense to him. For one thing, the fighters never went in the direction of Pigma. Speaking of Pigma, he hasn't done anything more than flying every this way and that, not even running, nor engaging. Before he could think about it any further, James had some bogeys on his back sending lasers past him, just about cutting through his wings.  
  
"Crap! Peppy, I need some help!"  
  
"I'm having trouble myself!"  
  
"Grr…Pigma! Get over here, now!  
  
"………."  
  
"Pigma what the hell are you doing?!"  
  
  
  
Pigma made a snigger, a very unnatural sounding snigger. Before James could ask what was happening, he got his answer in the form of a very odd response from Pigma.  
  
"I'm sorry James, but helping you just simply isn't in my contract."  
  
"What?! What goddamn contract?!"  
  
"You're so gullible. Andross needed info on you guys if he wanted to overcome you!"  
  
Between James and Peppy was utmost shock. Pigma showed his true colors. A spy.  
  
"You bastard traitor!" shouted Peppy.  
  
"Ain't Andross supposed to be powerless?" questioned James.  
  
Now Pigma became even cockier, and ranted on as if he had all the right cards.  
  
"Gullible gullible gullible! He's back, and better than before! Now excuse me. I have business to attend to. All fighters, Star Fox is yours, ahahahaha!"  
  
"You traitorous bitch!"  
  
Before James could finish cursing out Pigma, the fighters were on him again, faster than ever. After that, Pigma disappeared from view into some distant part of the planet, hiding among the orange clouds. James and Peppy were flying their Arwings like cats on fire as the fighters chased and fired more furiously, many times coming within inches of their fighters. The two tried their best to overcome the fighters, yet they were being swarmed as if they had busted a hornet's nest. However they wouldn't give up just yet. James decided now was time for a special maneuver of his own design.  
  
"Peppy, flight maneuver Omega!  
  
This was a special attack formation used only in the direst situations. The team would form up, and fly in a zigzag like pattern, along the way launching all of their Smart Bombs into the enemies. James and Peppy were in formation and ready to pull off the attack, but then, something happened. James was about to go into his position, but suddenly, the ship came to a frozen halt, and James was just about thrown out of his seat. Not knowing what was happening, he slammed his foot onto the accelerator, only hearing the engine groan with effort.  
  
"Peppy I can't move!"  
  
"What? How?!"  
  
James looked all around him, and when he looked up, he saw a gigantic ship, bigger than a Cornerian battle ship, and a green beam engulfing him that came from a hole in the bottom of the hull. Slowly, James realized just what the beam was.  
  
"Oh no…a tractor beam."  
  
  
  
"Hold on James I'm coming!"  
  
  
  
"No! It'll suck you in too!"  
  
  
  
"I'll try anyways! I'll come in from an angle!"  
  
  
  
Theoretically, it would work, as the tractor beam was not wide spread but to Peppy's demise, he was attacked on the way to rescue James, and his portions of his wings were blasted clean off. The craft began to maneuver horribly because of the loss of wings, and the G Diffusing systems on the wings. Knowing that he was greatly hindered, Peppy started becoming desperate to save his friend.  
  
  
  
"Sorry James! I'll have to find another way!"  
  
  
  
James now was silent. His wing mate was in horrid shape, and he himself was trapped. Something suddenly caught his eye from above. A bright light, from the same area as the tractor beam, except from a turret, a really big turret. He quickly realized what it was, a beam cannon, designed to blast larger ships. James knew he was in a near inescapable situation. The tractor beam had his ship frozen, and the cannon had a free shot. No matter what, the cannon would destroy the Arwing instantly if it made a direct hit.  
  
He sighed, and looked down from what was above, not wishing to see the tool of his ultimate destruction. It was then he saw something glittering on his control panel. The object was something he hadn't looked at in a long time. It was a picture of him and his son Fox that he taped into the cockpit. The picture was from the time some time after he entered the Cornerain Defense Military Academy, in hopes of becoming a great pilot like his father. It showed Fox and James standing on the Academy grounds right after the welcome speech.  
  
James was in his usual flight gear, Fox in an Academy uniform, no medals or anything, just the usual Military badges and symbols and one stripe on each shoulder bar indicating he was a first year at the Academy. That was 4 or 5 years ago, on a beautiful sunny day, but for both of them, it was one of their finest hours.  
  
James couldn't help but smile a little. His son made him so proud, quickly becoming one of the Academy's finest students. He also couldn't help but cry after thinking about that moment, sending hot tears down the fur on his face for the first time in many years, and having a couple held back sobs finally escape his throat, knowing that his death would be very traumatic for his son, unleashing all hell upon him emotionally.  
  
But still, James knew there was nothing he could do about his situation, he was as good as gone, even though he didn't like admitting it. He didn't like it at all that all this was happening. But he took a deep breath, recovering from his bit of crying, and talked into his com-link.  
  
"Peppy, code Omega Zulu 7. You know what to do."  
  
"Wha! B-but James! You can't be serious! There must be a way out!"  
  
Code Omega Zulu 7 was a code Peppy never wanted to hear as long as he lived. This code was the code that indicated the leader was going to die, and that all others must retreat. He didn't want James to give up, especially like this.  
  
"Peppy look at this. Could you get out if you were here? Hell no! You have to go. You're the only one that can get the news to Fox! I can't jeopardize your life because of me! Just go! That's an order!"  
  
"James! What will Fox do?!"  
  
"I say you know what to do. We've been over this. I'm…so sorry that this had to happen.  
  
"…Yessir."  
  
"Thanks Peppy, you've always been a friend."  
  
"Goodbye James, friend…god speed."  
  
"God speed…Dah-!"  
  
The beam was shot. And right before Peppy's very eyes, James' Arwing disappeared in a large flash of light. Nothing was left, and there was not a sign at all of ejection in any way shape or form. It was confirmed, James McCloud breathed his last breath.  
  
"James…ah shit!"  
  
The fighters managed to regroup, and they were on Peppy. Already, Peppy's shield was just about shot from all of the combat. He had to get out right away, otherwise he would be joining James. He quickly turned around, and was boosting out of there as much as his ship could take, but the fighters kept coming and shooting as his ship rattled and groaned with the great stress the boosts caused.  
  
"C'mon baby, don't fail me now. I have to get home. I have to tell Fox."  
  
Peppy knew he must not fail, he knew he was all that was left of the team. He kept going and going, and finally by some dumb luck as he flew through the atmosphere, the fighters gave up figuring he was not worth the effort.  
  
Even then Peppy didn't stop. All he could think about was getting home ASAP to tell Fox of his father's fate. He knew it wasn't good news, but he had his final orders that he had to fulfill…  
  
Because he was constantly boosting, the weeklong trip was reduced to about 1 day. He made it. He was home. It was about 3:30 in Corneria City when he was finally in orbit. He wiped the sweat off his brow and breathed exhaustion as the rush of fear left him. Now he could stop and think for a moment instead of acting upon adrenaline.  
  
*James…he's gone. Oh…goddammit what will I ever tell Fox? James said tell the straight truth, to just to say it and not to sugar powder it. He'll be so devastated …...there's going to be some major changes round here. *  
  
With those thoughts, Peppy proceeded to contact the port authorities that he was coming in on an emergency basis. He also requested an immediate meeting with General Pepper, that James McCloud gave the "final orders". On the way down, Peppy had a deep, sad feeling within him, accompanying a feeling of dread at how Fox was going to take it…  
  
  
  
  
  
Note: I hope you enjoyed that part. If you did, please do continue to read on and enjoy future chapters as they are made! The more interesting stuff is yet to come…read the other chapters I have up! 


	2. Chapter 1: The Son's Grievance

Chapter 1: The Son's grievance  
  
Fox McCloud sat at his desk terminal, punching away at the keys more vigorously that usual. He was like this because today he and his other peers were taking the end of fall tests, the first big tests of the entire year. He like all other students, sat hunched over monitors in their gray everyday uniforms, somewhat similar to a standard flight suit, minus all the fancy features. Just a zip up jacket with a t-shirt underneath, pants, and black boots.  
  
All the students also furrowed their brows in frustration, as these tests were not one bit easy. It takes about an hour to an hour and a half to complete. Fox was a 4th year at the Academy. This was to be his final year. Then he would be 18 after the end of the year and be able to choose what to do with his life. When you turned 14, you had two options. You could go to a normal school and go about things in a civilian manner, or you could sign up to be in the Academy and get your schooling and be taught how to fight in a field of your choice. Fox himself chose to go to the Academy and to learn to be a pilot just like his father.  
  
The rooms were nothing more that a gathering of work stations, with a teacher's desk and monitor board up front. Fox and the other 4th years were particularly frustrated because their tests were always the hardest. Fox himself was on the very last problem, brow much more furrowed in frustration than five minutes ago. The question was what was the G Diffuser named for. Some might think it stupid, but a pilot had to know their equipment. Fox thought, and thought, and then the answer hit him.  
  
*G diffuser engines are named based on the concept of working against gravity, why do I always forget that?*  
  
Fox typed in his answer, looked over the test quickly, and pressed the send key. He quietly breathed a sigh of content. He was so exhausted because of all the studying and from sitting down for a couple hours. He also noticed he was the first one to be finished, as the teacher was asleep up until his test was sent to the teachers terminal.  
  
He was very tempted to stretch and have a smug grin on his face, but he knew very well that wasn't acceptable. So he just sat and daydreamed. He also thought about things, like he recalled his dad was scheduled to be back tomorrow, and that it was also a day off that day because of the testing. Then another week, and he was off for Christmas, spending time at home with his father. Basically, Fox was feeling most content with things, knowing he could be lazy for a few weeks one week from now.  
  
Out of the blue he noticed something at the front of the room. His teacher, Seargent Stripeton was receiving a communications on his terminal. He also notice he was awful wide eyed while he listened. Seargent Stripeton was an orange haired cat person with green eyes who had stripes that were a darker shade of orange. He was a little strict, but he was still a fairly good teacher.  
  
Fox himself couldn't help but hear what Stripeton was whispering into the terminal. He was so bored he attempted to make out what was being said. He only heard a few phrases. "Sir, who do you need to see?" "Oh my…" "I see…" This was all Fox could make out from what was whispered. He began to wonder what the whole conversation was about. Just as he wondered that, Stripeton got up and walked quickly down the aisle to Fox, coming to his side and was face to face with him.  
  
"Mr. McCloud, are you finished with your test?" whispered Stripeton  
  
For a moment, Fox thought he was being scolded for listening in or something, but then, he thought he noticed some sense of urgency in Stripeton's voice.  
  
"Yes sir, I am finished."  
  
"Would you please follow me?"  
  
Fox just did what he was told to do and followed Stripeton out of the room. Once they were outside, Stripeton closed the door and heaved a sigh. There was no one in the hallway at the moment, so they just talked freely.  
  
"Fox, the General wishes to see you in his office."  
  
At this comment, Fox went completely wide-eyed. His teacher was obviously referring to the one person in charge of the entire Cornerian army and headmaster of the Academy, General Pepper. He wondered why he would want to see someone as low as Fox, a mere cadet at the Academy.  
  
"Sir, why does he wish to see me?"  
  
"I do not know. You aren't in trouble or anything, but he said it was of utmost importance that you come to his office ASAP. That's all I was told. If it's that important, then you best get down there. Don't bother coming back. Class is to end after everyone finished the test, so consider yourself dismissed from class. Oh, and there will be no homework."  
  
"Yes sir."  
  
After giving a brief salute to Stripton, Fox began to walk as fast as he could out of the gray colored classroom complex, and begin the walk across the Academy grounds to get to the General's office. The Academy grounds were beautiful, with statues of various famous figures, bright flowers, green grass, and the occasional fountain flowing with crystal clear water. The clean pathways led every which way to the various facilities in the Academy area.  
  
The path Fox took led him to a place students rarely visited, the Administration Building. It was not the biggest building, but because of its purposes as Academy administration housing, it was still fairly well sized. Fox proceeded up the large steps leading up to the glass doors of the building still bewildered as to why the General wishes to speak with him.  
  
As he walked to the glass door, he saw right in the middle of the lobby General Pepper, pacing about the area, his boots clicking on the marble floor. Pepper looked up, and quickly walked over to Fox. Fox was very quick to give his best salute, knowing that Pepper was the highest authority in the entire military. Pepper just returned the salute, and gave Fox a firm handshake.  
  
"It's an honor to meet you sir."  
  
"Yes, indeed. You're probably wondering why you're here right?"  
  
"Why yes sir, I am very curious about that."  
  
"Hmm…well, I'd tell you, but I am in no position to do so." he said with a certain grim sounding air in his voice  
  
"What's this about sir?"  
  
"Just follow me to my office. There is a friend of yours their. I kind of wish we could've met under different circumstances."  
  
Fox just wondered who this person could possibly be, and why Pepper talked about circumstances, what was it all about? He didn't understand one bit of the whole situation.  
  
He followed Pepper up to an elevator, which lead them to a higher part of the building, where all the top brass' offices were. Then they walked through one last door that was a little ways down the well-guarded hall. It was a typical office for high brass, lots of space, many decorations, big windows, and also a good-sized work terminal, all a shade of gray. There was a set of chairs, and in one of those chairs was someone Fox knew. It was Peppy, but not with his usual wise looking face, but a face of extreme grimness and concern. Peppy got up slowly out of his chair and walked over to Fox who was still confused about everything. Fox was curious as to what Peppy would have to say to Fox that was so important, but he still was ready to listen.  
  
"Peppy? What are you doing here?"  
  
"Well, I have some bad news…." he said in that same air Pepper had earlier  
  
It was then that Fox thought of something important. If it had to do with anything besides Star Fox, someone else would've told it, and there was never anything that was bad news in Star Fox except the sticky situations his father tells him about, and now the thought of his father came to him knowing that usually if anyone did visit him it was him.  
  
"Where's dad?"  
  
"Fox, I …"  
  
There was a long silence as Peppy seemed to try to find his words, and Fox didn't like it one bit. He knew something was wrong, and he wondered if his father was involved. He began to fear something had gone wrong, that perhaps his father was hurt. Looks of great worry began to spread over his face, and insides felt heavy.  
  
"Peppy, did something…"  
  
"Fox, I really hate to be telling you this, but…your father…your father was…killed."  
  
The instance the last word was spoken, it felt to Fox as if someone rammed a fully loaded assault tank into his stomach, and his jaw half dropped. His worst thoughts, ones pushed into the recesses of his mind over the years, came true and hit him hard. He was being told his father was dead, the one thing he never, ever wanted to hear as long as he walked Corneria. His mind and heart just simply wouldn't take a bit of it, nor think about it, and a sinking, pit-like feeling had struck him within.  
  
"There…must be some kind of mistake. Maybe he was just shot down or he escaped or-"  
  
"I'm sorry Fox, I went over those also. I saw his ship get blown to oblivion in front of my own eyes. Nothing happened after that. I'm …so sorry."  
  
Fox was having a hard time swallowing it all. In fact, he couldn't take it at all. He just stood there completely shocked and almost frozen. Then, he wanted to get away, away from the horrible thing he just heard.  
  
"Will you excuse me please?"  
  
Before anyone could say a word, Fox ran straight out of the office to the elevator.  
  
"Fox! Please, come back!" shouted Pepper in an attempt to stop Fox. Pepper began to run towards Fox, but Peppy grabbed him by the shoulder and stopped him.  
  
"Sir, let me handle him."  
  
All Pepper could do was slowly nod in approval. After that, Peppy set off after Fox just fast enough to shadow him  
  
*****  
  
Fox was running through the campus as fast as he could towards his dorm. He was one of the fastest runners in the school, so everything just seemed to rush by as he kept juggling the information over and over again. At the moment, it was all he could think about.  
  
*No, no way dad could be dead. He had to escape somehow! Maybe it was just a small explosion and Peppy didn't see it, or maybe his ejection wasn't detected or……no.*  
  
Fox's heart finally had to accept the thoughts from the back of his mind. His mind knew very well what Peppy said. He saw the ship right in front of him explode into nothing. There was no escape. When Fox realized this, he began crying, and felt hot tears forming within his eyes. He was able to hold back most of his tears, but some still dribbled down his face. He was somehow a little glad someone wasn't around to see him; he didn't feel like talking to anyone about anything. He finally arrived at his place of residence, Dorm Block B.  
  
He got into the foyer and headed straight to the elevator, still holding back his tears. He arrived at the 4th floor, and ran down the gray, tiled hallway to his room that was not that far from the elevator, Dorm #407.  
  
He punched in his key code and unlocked the sliding door. After that he promptly barged right in and pressed the close button to close the door. His dorm wasn't very much. He was one of the lucky few that got his own dorm. It just had the standard issue bed, desk, table, gray coat of paint, and a set of chairs. Fox ended up adding a computer, shelves of books, a TV, a game system, his models, and whatever other personal possessions he had.  
  
Once the door was closed, he fell back against the adjoining wall with great force, and slipped down slowly into a curled up position. His breathing was very heavy, and he was sweating all over. His throat and his eyes burned, and his mouth was dry. There was also some kind of empty tingly feeling inside of him.  
  
Finally he could no longer hold back his tears. He had a couple gasps escape his throat before he completely broke down and began to sob and whimper, and placed his face into his hands. For the next few minutes, all he did was cry into his hands. He couldn't hold anything back, he simply couldn't. The entire world, which was laid before him just a while ago, had been completely shattered into nothing in one swift blow. It was something that hit him too hard, too fast, in a way he could never handle.  
  
Hot tears filled his hands and covered his face, and hard, choked sobs came out of his throat, every one making his throat dryer and sorer. He could not stop, and let it all out for a while, before there was a sound from the door, knocking. Fox just ignored it. The knocking kept persisting, and finally a voice came from the door.  
  
"Hey Fox, you in there?"  
  
Fox recognized that voice instantly. He knew who it was. He slowly lifted his head, trying his best not to cry anymore.  
  
"P-Peppy? T-that you?" stuttered out Fox.  
  
"Yeah, it's me…can I come in?"  
  
"It's…unlocked."  
  
Peppy let himself into the dormitory. He promptly closed the door. He at first didn't see Fox, but then he saw him sitting against the wall crying. Fox took his tearstained face out of his hands for one moment to look at his guest, and then buried his face yet again to continue crying.  
  
"Hey Fox, how about you sit somewhere more comfortable so that we can talk?"  
  
Fox just continued to sit there, but now he wrapped his arms around his legs to bring them close, turning himself into a curled ball as he continued to sob into his knees. Peppy just sighed and pulled him up by the shoulders, slowly getting him up and leading him to one of the chairs by the table. Then he sat himself down. There were no words between them for another few minutes. Peppy didn't know what to say, and Fox sat there, tears still quickly flowing onto his face. Peppy then decided on what to say to initiate the conversation a little.  
  
"Fox…I'm real sorry about what happened. I know that it's probably a tad hard to take. I just wish I could've done something, but-"  
  
"Then why the fuckin hell didn't you do anything?!" exploded Fox into Peppy's face.  
  
There was yet more silence, except this time it was from shock. Peppy was shocked at Fox's sudden outburst; Fox was shocked that he said such a thing to one of his old colleagues.  
  
"I'm…sorry Peppy. I didn't …mean to…"  
  
"Hey, it's okay. I…kinda know how people react to this kinda thing. Anyways….what happened was some enemy fighters swarmed us. When we both got into trouble, we found out Pigma was a spy for Andross. Apparently, Andross started his own army. So we were betrayed and we tried to pull off an attack. Then out of nowhere this huge ship popped out of nowhere and used a tractor beam on your dad.  
  
"While that was going on, the ship charged up a laser cannon, and …well…"  
  
More silence came before Fox started sobbing again, however his cries were louder, and his tears more profuse. Peppy put his arm around Fox's shoulder to try and get him to calm down.  
  
"Hey, things will work out. If you need to, go ahead and cry as much as you have to."  
  
Fox looked up slowly from his hand to speak. His lower jaw was quivering, and his blue-green eyes had this look that Peppy didn't like. Besides the tears, there was this deep dark look, a look Peppy has seen over the years in dozens of people who's loved ones were killed, a look of sadness, despair, anger, confusion, grievance, and much fear.  
  
"I…I just don't know what to do Peppy. I just don't know at all. Where do I go from here?" sobbed Fox.  
  
"I have no idea either. I'd say just try to move on somehow. It might take awhile but we all move on eventually."  
  
"I…I feel afraid all of a sudden. So…afraid, and alone…I'm the only family I got now. Who will I turn to now? First mom is gone, now dad…I've got no one else."  
  
Peppy remembered these things very well. Fox had no relatives. The few he had are all dead, either because of age or natural causes, or from military work. He remembered how James and Fox were affected when Fox's mother died. Peppy was with them at the time to offer support. She died from some kind of cancer that was found too late to have anything done. James was never the same after that. And Fox was just 6 years old at the time, and no one could quite protect him from the horror of it.  
  
Now Fox was alone with the death of his father. There was no one right next to him who could give him a hug and say everything would work out for the best. He remembered when Fox was crying when he first got the news from his father. His father had to kneel down and give him a hug and reassurance. They both cried then. It was a real sad moment for all. After a couple months, things went back to a more pleasant atmosphere.  
  
James was able to overcome it after a little while, he was experienced with losing people he knew from serving in the Cornerian military. As with Fox, he was so young it wasn't too hard for James to cheer him up. The two got used to the new set up and life proceeded on as usual. But now, Fox's life took a major turn that he wasn't quite ready for.  
  
"Fox, I'm sure that me and your friends will be willing to help you out. That's what friends are for."  
  
"…You're right, I guess." Fox said quietly.  
  
Then all of a sudden, Fox started to shiver a lot, wrapping his arms around himself as he shook. Peppy couldn't help but wonder about this  
  
"Why are you shivering like that? Are you cold?"  
  
"Very. So…so cold."  
  
Peppy looked over at the thermostat by the door. It flashed 70 degrees Fahrenheit. Peppy knew what was going on. Very many people start to feel like that after some kind of trauma. For Fox, hearing of his father's death was quite traumatic. A loud beeping that was coming from his watch interrupted Peppy's line of thought. He looked down at it, and it read 5:30.  
  
"Ah geez, I'm sorry but I gotta go now. I have to talk to the General again."  
  
Peppy got up to go, but Fox just sat there still shivering a little bit, trying to make sense out of everything. Peppy was growing more worried by the minute. He was concerned that all this might consume Fox's life. Then he remembered something he had to tell Fox.  
  
"Just to tell you, one of your Father's orders was to look after you so I'll be stopping by every now and then to check up on you."  
  
"Sure, whatever…"  
  
"Ok…I guess I'll see you later then."  
  
Peppy let himself out the door, looking back over his shoulder at the saddened form of Fox before he walked out of the room, door closing behind him. Now Fox was alone. He sat and digested everything, still recovering from the shock, his head still spinning from the blow. It felt as if someone had taken his spirit and shattered it to bits, bits so small they couldn't be put back together. His body continued to tremor, tears still ran down his face, and sobs left his throat. Eventually, as he failed to recover, he felt with resounding force, something within him and his mind snap.  
  
"Aaaaahhhhhhg!"  
  
Fox screamed at the top of his lungs in complete and utter fiery rage. He knocked over his chair to the floor and charged to the nearest wall. He started repeatedly bringing his fist crashing into a wall with punches of greatly increasing, unimaginable strength, fueled by his fury, which was also expressed as he cursed with each blow.  
  
"Goddamn fucking piece of…!"  
  
He pounded away at the wall continually with no stopping, tears running down his face and curses coming out of his mouth, cursing nothing. This kept on and on. He began to forget everything except the fact his father was dead, gone forever, his remaining family gone with him, and that he now felt completely alone in the vast universe, completely isolated. Now time was irrelevant. He forgot about it completely, and even forgot the pain his fists were feeling, the parch ness in his throat and the blood that throbbed through his body. He was going at the wall for hours. It began at 5:35, and went on up to 9. All evening people passing by heard something from the room, but couldn't make it out because of the sound proof walls.  
  
Finally, at about 9:15, he began to weaken. His punches became very light, as did his sobs and curses. Finally, he just about collapsed from sheer exhaustion from all of the effort and gave up with one last pound to the wall to the wall, before he slowly slid down the wall into a half crumpled heap. He was breathing hard with great exhaustion, not even noticing the few scrapes he had on his fists from hitting a corner, nor the bruises. He would've slept right there, but instead he crawled through the now dark room to his bed, using what little strength he had to lift himself up onto it, and fell face first into the pillow. He started sobbing into the pillow.  
  
"Why dad…why did…you die?" he sobbed.  
  
Fox kept crying up into the late night, and fell asleep still crying unconsciously.  
  
****** 


	3. Chapter 2: Aftershock

Author's note: This story is not done yet! It's long form over! Now comes recovery ^_^ I will post chapter 3 soon, but I have a thing called "school". So I may take some time (apologies to people who want to read the whole thing. Anyways, enjoy. Oh yeah, I forgot acknowledgments. Thanks to Nintendo and Shigeru Miyamoto for a great game. And all the people who wrote stories that were good enough to inspire me. K, done, enjoy. Thoughts will now have * near them cause italics wont show on Fanfiction.net.  
  
Chapter 2: Aftershock  
  
There was an orange colored light all around the whole area. There were also many shapes flying around up above. Everywhere, there were explosions and lights streaking across the sky. Then, a great round shape came looming, and caught one of the larger, triangular shapes in a green shaft of light. After another minute, there was a huge explosion, and the shape was gone from where it was below the other shape. Then it all went a searing hot white.  
  
"Ah!"  
  
Fox woke up from his brief slumber. He was dreaming, but he couldn't make it out. Everything was blurry. Now he found himself lying on his bed, still in the same clothes as yesterday with his face on his pillow. His breathing yet again was heavy, his eyes tear filled, and his whole body was covered in sweat and shivers. The digital clock next to the bed read 9:37.  
  
*What...what was that dream about? I…don't understand…*  
  
Then, there was a chime on the door.  
  
"Fox, you up?"  
  
It was Peppy. Fox wasn't expecting him. He began to wonder why he was here, but then he remembered he was going to check in regularly as he was ordered. He couldn't get up so he just mumbled.  
  
"It's open."  
  
Peppy let himself in He still had that same look of concern on his face like he did yesterday, and he also held a copy of the Academy newspaper.  
  
"How are you feeling today?"  
  
Fox couldn't come up with an answer. Peppy knew very well that he wasn't feeling any better. No one that Peppy knew of could make a recovery that fast. Fox began to sit up, though it was a tad bit of an effort for him to keep stable. That's when Peppy noticed it. Fox's eyes were completely blood shot, and the fur on his face was completely tear stained. He also noticed that his fists were purple and cut, and that the pillow on his bed was soaked.  
  
"Good lord Fox! What did you do to yourself?!"  
  
Silence ensued, and Fox just sat there. Peppy knew it was going to be one of those tricky, long conversations, so he reached for a chair, but then just found it laying on the floor. He picked it up and took a seat, just as Fox had another meltdown , beginning to shiver, and began to sob out a response.  
  
"Peppy…I just…oh god!"  
  
He buried his face into his hands to cry, and continued to sob out worse than the night before.  
  
"I can't take this! I'm even getting to the point where I pound the wall and curse my guts out complete with crying myself to what little sleep I can get!"  
  
"Fox, it's-"  
  
"It's not okay dammit!"  
  
Fox was now in Peppy's face, both yet again in shock. Then, Fox began to shiver uncontrollably and turn away.  
  
"I can't even respect people I know!"  
  
He proceeded to pound his fist on the wall, but that only resulted in a pained hand and a groan of pain.  
  
"Fox! Hurting yourself won't help any!"  
  
Once again silence reigned between the two, up until Peppy remembered his reason for being here, hoping perhaps he could get on another topic.  
  
"Um…I talked with the General, and we got a memorial service scheduled to be tomorrow. So you have to get your ceremonial uniform ready, dry cleaning, polishing, the works. I also got your paper from your door."  
  
"A service tomorrow? But…they don't do things that fast. And the paper comes on Sundays only…"  
  
"Well…this is a bit of a big deal for the entire military. Your dad was kind of a hero back in the military days. One of the best pilots, and he always got the job done and brought home every man."  
  
"Oh…what's the paper got to say anyways?"  
  
"See for yourself."  
  
Peppy handed the paper to Fox. The Academy Times was the paper for the entire Academy, and normally they only came on Sundays. But in this issue, there was only one topic. It read on the front page: Star Fox leader James McCloud reported KIA. There was a picture of James, and below it, an article went on about him, what happened, and about himself. Just after reading the first few lines, Fox couldn't help but to drop the paper, and lower his head and bury his face. Recalling all of it was just too painful. Peppy then felt he could speak again.  
  
"Just as a warning. Because of the fact you're James' son, the press might be mobbing you with questions. The news is going to spread after the afternoon press conference. So if you need help…"  
  
"I…think I'll be fine. I'll let you know if I need it."  
  
"You'll be fine for now?"  
  
Fox opened his mouth, and then he shut it, not knowing what the truth for him was, and began to cry uncontrollably.  
  
"I just don't know any more! I just…can't take this…the pressure.  
  
"Fox…"  
  
"What should I do?! I feel like …something's going to snap…"  
  
"Why don't you take advantage of this day off to chill out a little bit, try to relax? I know…"  
  
Peppy reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of credits.  
  
"Buy yourself a nice big breakfast first off. That stuff they serve at the cafeteria ain't gonna be all that helpful."  
  
Peppy tossed the bills to Fox, but he didn't even try to catch it. The most he did was open up his hand and let the bills bounce off to the floor.  
  
"Peppy, I can't take your money. You shouldn't waste it just for me…"  
  
"C'mon Fox, if I didn't try to cheer you up, I'd be failing in one of your father's wishes."  
  
Peppy got up and bent over to pick up the bills. He took Fox's hand, opened it, and placed the bills in it.  
  
"Just take it Fox. You need to do whatever you can to keep going. Go and try to have some fun downtown or something."  
  
"…Ok Peppy. You're right. A break might help."  
  
"Well, then get on out there. I'd join you, but I have to make the arrangements. I'll stop by later this evening. Just be sure to get back in the early afternoon to get your uniform ready. You know as well as I do what it takes to get those ready."  
  
"Sure thing."  
  
"I have to go now. You just go out and do something. See you later."  
  
"Bye…"  
  
Peppy left the dorm, and Fox was alone to decide what to do. Somehow, all the release he did helped him enough to where he could think straight. He thought of possible things he could do.  
  
*I can grab breakfast first, and then I have a few hours free until 2. After that, I can work on fixing my uniform, and at 6 I'm meeting with the guys at the Officer's Club. After that, some more uniform work, and then off to bed. Sounds like a plan…*  
  
Fox decided that first he needed to clean up. He went to the bathroom to get out of his used clothes and to take a shower. As he stepped in, the steam from the hot water felt a little soothing. So was the water. While he was there, he also washed his eyes to take out the redness. Normally, he'd feel better from the soothing shower, but he still felt kind of blue. Even then, he went ahead with his normal shower routine, just a little slower. He then dried off and went to his clothes drawer and pulled out a pair of jeans, a white t- shirt, and a pair of socks and underwear.  
  
Once he was dressed, he went to shave. He had a bit of a 5 o clock shadow, but it was easily taken care of with a couple swipes of his razor electric razor. But after Fox was finished doing this, he noticed himself in the mirror above the sink. He looked at himself and thought. He knew he looked a lot better than he did 5 minutes ago. His hair wasn't a mess, his eyes weren't bloodshot, and his face wasn't tear stained, but his eyes. They still had this look, a look that's an obvious sign of sadness, no luster at all. Just darkness.  
  
He then turned away from the mirror, before he became further depressed and turned his attention to his closet. He opened the closet. In there, there were a few sets of everyday uniforms, his ceremonial uniform case, some more formal regular clothes, a water proof rain jacket, and one of his favorites, a bomber jacket his dad gave him.  
  
It was a simple jacket. It was just a brown leather flight jacket, with various pockets, and fur covered neck. He had it for a long time. His dad gave it to him many years ago as a hand me down. At the time it was too big, but now it fit perfectly. He and his dad had almost the exact same measurements. Every time he put it one, he was reminded very much of his father. That was a reason he liked it besides the fact he thought he looked good in it.  
  
However, when he put it on, instead of feeling just neutral or feeling confident that he looked ok, he just felt a deep pit within him. He knew very well that he wasn't going to get over this anytime soon. It would take much time. Even then, he made his way out the door, shoving his sneakers on along the way, to head to the elevator.  
  
He walked across the large expanse of the Academy grounds down to the #4 South Gate. This gate emptied straight into Corneria City because the Academy was in the center and also consumed one of the largest amounts of space in the whole city. Fox went to the gate and went trough the usual formalities of signing out so that he could leave campus temporarily. Despite the fact they were technically student soldiers, they were still allowed to go and get anything they might want or to take a break, just like at a regular college.  
  
Fox knew the area nearby the Academy on all sides well. One of his father's priorities when Fox first came was to teach him as best he could about the various aspects of Academy life. What was expected to happen over time, what thing is or does what, the best shortcuts to various places, anything a student may want to know that he already learned the hard way. He wanted to make things just a little easier. Among these things that were taught were the best places to go outside of the Academy.  
  
The place Fox went to was only about one and a half blocks away from South Gate #4, so he got there in about five minutes time. He remembered this place very well from his first year. His dad took him there the day before the ceremony to celebrate because according to him, it was the best café within walking distance. This place was the High Flying Dining Café. The name was quite silly in many people's opinions, but it made sense because it was so near the Academy, and they specialized in flying techniques.  
  
Groggily he pushed open the door to enter. It hadn't changed too much since he first came and last came. It still had that retro look from when his dad was growing up. He found a spot by the window. As he sat down, something flashed into his mind. He was sitting in the very spot where he and his dad sat during his first year, next to the same window in the exact spot where he sat. He found this quite strange. Before he could contemplate further the dog waiter on duty came up and gave him a menu.  
  
"Can I get you something to drink sir?"  
  
"Sure…coffee please."  
  
"Right away."  
  
After the waiter left, Fox looked over the menu and thought.  
  
*Let see, I don't want something too small, so…maybe a country breakfast…no not that, or the pancake platter? No…*  
  
Then the waiter came back with his coffee. He thanked the waiter and took the mug. He knew from what his father told him that this place had good coffee. Not too strong, but it made your eyes just about snap open. Fox felt a little better about knowing this, as he was very groggy, so he took a big sip. To his demise however, not even the heat woke him up.  
  
*Hmm? That tasted strong and was hot, but why do I feel tired? Maybe some cream and sugar might help.*  
  
He added a pack of sugar and a container of cream and stirred it all around. He lazily looked at the swirls, and was sent into thought. It kind of reminded him of a hurricane. Then he remembered a tall tale that his father told many people. The tale went that he flew through a huge hurricane of the worst kind just so he could get home and not be stranded on a sea based carrier for a whole week. Everyone would laugh, and then his dad would make his audience laugh more by trying to make them believe it's true, just as a joke.  
  
Fox normally would've chuckled at the thought, but nothing came out. He just continued to drink his coffee, hoping for a sugar rush to kick in, but it never came. He kept noticing the weird patterns the cream and sugar made, and kept remembering things. Then the waiter came back.  
  
"Are you ready to order sir?"  
  
Fox just continued to look at his coffee, not noticing anything, being deep in thought over his many memories.  
  
"Sir?"  
  
Still, silence.  
  
"Excuse me sir."  
  
The waiter tapped Fox on the shoulder, shaking him away from his memories.  
  
"Hm?"  
  
"Are you ready to order?"  
  
"Oh yes…um…what's today's special?"  
  
"That would be the Starburst Breakfast platter."  
  
"All right I'll take that."  
  
"Ok…are you with the military? There is a 10% military discount."  
  
"Oh, yes. Here's my ID."  
  
Fox pulled out his wallet, then flipped the wallet open showing his Academy ID card.  
  
"All right…your order will be ready in a few minutes."  
  
The waiter left, taking his notepad with the order to the kitchen. Fox still sat with his wallet. He had another memory from this wallet. His father gave this to him too. It was his old wallet that he found very convenient because he could flick it out and his ID would show through the plastic window. It was yet another thing that Fox could make use of at the Academy. It actually did what his dad said it would do.  
  
Fox sighed and shoved the wallet into his jacket's inner pocket. While he was waiting, he remembered the events of when his dad brought him here 4 years ago. Fox was kind of surprised at himself because he even remembered what food they ate, what the outside conditions were like, what they talked about, and all those little details people tend to forget.  
  
He remembered that while they walked from his dorm after moving him in, they took the route via the #4 South Gate and the city sidewalk. His father was telling him about the various short cuts to different places, namely what he thought were the best places to go for various reasons, particularly near the Academy and the Military base since people in the military got discounts. He even gave Fox a little notepad with the information for his reference.  
  
Then they came to this café to have dinner. They had a bit of a feast including their favorites. They had onion blossoms for an appetizer, root beer for drinks. Then they both had a rib platter, with fries and a rack of BBQ ribs, and had a dessert of Hot Fudge Sundaes. Fox couldn't believe he remembered that. That was usually something he forgot within minutes, but now the remembered it. He then thought about something he's thought of before. His dad always frequented foods that were particularly rich, like double bacon cheeseburgers and ribs. They had a joke that the reason he never had any health problems or the possibility because his line of work burned off everything.  
  
He remembered all the stories that were shared, plus all the advice, like "When in doubt, ask for the special." Fox couldn't help but sigh at the memories of the way his dad went about things on a daily basis, not having much of a care in the world, the way he always had a joke for everything. Unless the situation was real nasty, like war, or the death of someone close, he was always in high spirits. It was one of the many traits that made Fox love his dad so much. He missed those things so, along with various idiosyncrasies like leaving himself open for a counter joke and not caring about it.  
  
Then the waiter came back with his food, and set it down. It was a fairly common combination, eggs, bacon, sausage, hash browns, and a piece of buttered toast. Fox just quietly ate while his memories still stirred within his mind.  
  
Note: As I said chapter 3 is coming soon, so please be patient! ^_^ 


	4. Chapter 3: Rusted Skills

Note: All right, I've gotten around to doing this chapter. I am VERY sorry to those who have been waiting to read this chapter. Just so you don't get angry, it's a little bit slow for the next chapter or 2, so be patient. More good stuff comes eventually, but hey, I cant exactly skip all the in between stuff can I? Ruins the story if I don't. Until I get down 2 chapters later, just bear with me please! Please also cope with the fact I am a new writer getting accustomed to putting effort in my work. Thanks to those who encourage me to go on with this story, you know who you are! Enjoy. Keep an eye out for Chapter 4. Ok, now read the story! PS Special requests on story ideas will also be reviewed if you send them.  
  
"Why does it feel like night today? Something in here's not right today. Why am I so uptight today? Paranoia's all I got left, I don't know what stressed me first, or how the pressure was fed."  
  
-Papercut, Linkin Park, Earth  
  
  
  
Chapter 3: Rusted skills  
  
  
  
Fox finished his meal after about half an hour. The time now was now 10:35. The waiter just came to pick up his dishes and give Fox the check. Now Fox felt full and a warmer feeling in his gut. He took a look at the check.  
  
*7.25 credits. All right. I'll leave a credit tip and…whoa!*  
  
Fox was surprised when he got out his money. He saw that Peppy gave him 15 credits. He didn't expect him to give him that much. He just figured that when he said for Fox to go have fun and not to worry, he was serious. Fox left the money needed to pay, plus a one-credit tip, then he left.  
  
He began a long walk. He wasn't sure where he was going, then he remembered Peppy suggested downtown. Fox then had an idea.  
  
*Maybe…I'll see if the arcade has anything of interest.*  
  
Fox then started to walk to the nearest bus stop. One of the advantages of being a student at the Academy is you get to ride the bus and the hyper train for free. Just as Fox got to a street corner stop, the bus had arrived and landed. He climbed onto the bus, flashed his ID, and took a seat. A couple minutes later, the bus lifted up and started on its way to join traffic.  
  
All the land vehicles on Corneria hovered a couple feet off the ground, and moved with miniature jets. There were also highways in the sky that let cars work with these floating pylons that made an invisible road of electricity and allowed the car's hover pods to work like a magnet, and the road and the car's polarity were the same. It was actually somewhat amazing, but since the concept was invented a couple decades before even Fox's father was born, it was fairly typical for people of Fox's generation. So were many modern day conveniences.  
  
As the building began to grow taller as the bus entered downtown, Fox thought of how beautiful the buildings seem on a sunny day. Each building was a bit of a wonder with all the glass and metal integrated together. Technology was always something that Fox was impressed by. It was his father who introduced it to him, teaching him about computers and many other mechanical devices when he was just a little kid.  
  
Now the buildings were at their tallest, and Fox knew to get off. He got off and merged with the crowds. It was about a one-block walk before he arrived at his destination, The Game Dimension of Corneria City.  
  
The Game Dimension was a small chain of large game arcades, usually 2-3 story buildings that had just about every kind of arcade game in the system. They were just about 5 years ago, so the chain has only spread to areas not too far from Corneria City. This paticular building was the largest, being a 5-story arcade, taking up the ground space of a large restaurant.  
  
He walked through the tinted glass doors and went through the counter. Then it was off to one of the service booth to pay the 1 credit entrance fee, and getting 6 credits worth of change. He was given a stamp to show he had paid and the stamp checker let him through the door. Instantly, Fox was immersed in a place full of light, noise, and people moving about talking or playing an arcade game. His mind flooded full of memories from a 5 years ago. He remembered him, Bill, and Slippy went to the grand opening of this place. It was a real big deal at the time. Ever since then, they regularly came here to hang out and play games. He started to remember all the good times, even the rare times his father came along to play a quick game.  
  
He wasn't planning to stick around on the arcade level however. He wanted to head up to the simulator levels where all the VR units were. Nearby there was an elevator which led to any level, so Fox walked over so he could go where he wanted to go. He entered the glass elevator, pressing the right button, and was slowly moving up to the simulator level.  
  
As the ride came to a stop and Fox stepped out, his mind yet again filled with memories. This is where he met Falco the first time. It was 4 years ago. At the time, Fox, Bill, and Slippy were out, and there was a crowd gathered around the civilian Arwing simulator. There was whispers going around that there was a gangster who was kicking everyone's tail in the simulator. There was a huge line to try and beat this guy because this guy was offering some cash for anyone who could beat him on the 2 player simulator.  
  
Fox at the time took interest in the challenge. For him, it wasn't too hard because he had the advantage of experience from times he played in the military issue simulators at the officer's club. Civilian editions were a breeze. The battle had passed by in less than 30 seconds, leaving the crowd shocked. When Fox beat Falco, he saw that he was an Avain, and remembered they were naturally attracted to flying. Falco had roughly handed over the cash and walked off, then Fox, being the nice type, ran after him and handed it back, telling him how it was probably unfair because he was a cadet.  
  
When Falco heard this, he began to reminisce on how he always wanted to go to the Academy, but never could get the administration to accept him because of his background and his skill at other things. That's when Fox offered to help him out at things that kept him from entering, get him to where he could get accepted. Falco, after some persuasion, reluctantly decided to take the offer, and over the time that Fox was helping Falco with his flying skills or his basic stuff he never learned since he didn't go to school, and helping him straighten out his behavior, they became friends and after a while Falco became a part of Fox's regular group of friends. Fox always thought it to be the strangest circumstances to meet under.  
  
After shaking his head to bring him back to reality, Fox headed on over to the single player simulators. He arrived at the cockpit shaped terminal after a little crowd fighting, the canopy being made up of screens, and climbed in to pay his .25 credits to play. Once the coin was in, the game began. The canopy screens lowered and the flight menu came up. Fox of course selected the highest difficulty. Instantly, he was immersed in the environment. He played this many times before, but now, he felt it was harder.  
  
It was the same game that he played only a couple weeks ago, same difficulty, same everything. But now…Fox just couldn't seem to do anything. No matter what he did, he couldn't get anything or do anything. Enemies kept catching Fox off guard. Within a minute, he was destroyed and the game ended.  
  
*What? How…how did that happen? I've practically memorized this thing. Even on my worst days I could do this…*  
  
Fox sighed and attempted the game about three more times before he finally gave up and went over to a nearby VR shooter match. But to his demise, it was only the same results. He was constantly off guard, his aim was always horribly off, he never outran the enemies, and he also was killed within a minute. It was about 2 more tries before Fox gave up on both of the simulators he liked.  
  
The arcade didn't hold much interest to him, but even then, he was so bored he tried a couple basketball games and racing games. Again to his demise, same results as with the simulators, he just wasn't in the rhythm of things, he couldn't think, he was uncoordinated, he just simply was unable to do anything. He shot a glance at his watch as he thought, and saw that it was about 12:15 He gave up on the games completely and went to the underground café to have a quick bite of lunch.  
  
The café at the arcade was kind of funny. It was just a silver room with a bunch of small tables, flat TVs hanging from the ceiling showing various things, game demos, music videos, and general programs. On one TV, there was the news. There was of course, a counter for sitting and ordering food. Fox just walked up and ordered some root beer and a burger.  
  
He promptly got back a small tray with a burger and a root beer, and he gave the cashier the 2 credits needed to pay. Fox wasn't too interested in the other programs on the screens, so he just sat at a table near the news monitor. As he sat down, he glued his eyes to the screen and at the same time ate while watching. The news didn't have too much different news. The stock market was doing well, the sports teams of Corneria City were also doing quite well, and then he perked up when the news anchor said something.  
  
"Today, a press conference has been announced to take place at about 2:30 this afternoon with General Pepper of the Cornerian Military. The conference was announced just this morning for no known reason. When asked why it was being held, the General said that he didn't wish to say anything just yet as it is something of great importance. That is the hour's latest news. Now to the…"  
  
Fox only listened far enough to hear that it is extremely likely to snow heavily that night and throughout the next day, maybe even further, and that the sudden change was caused by some precipitation and jet stream from up in the much colder north. After that, Fox just zoned out.  
  
*So, I have two and a half hours until everyone on the planet knows, then I could be the victim of reporter mobbing…I wonder how everyone else is reacting. I wonder what Pepper will have to say besides…the obvious…*  
  
Fox was again entranced in thought for the next half hour, eating as he thought of what could happen next. Then when he was done, he sat for another fifteen minutes before depositing his tray and heading to the arcade's exit.  
  
*****  
  
Fox was outside walking among the crowds again, wondering what he could do now. But along with his wondering, but he also was thinking, how all of a sudden everything seemed so big, the crowds large and intimidating, as was the buildings, sounds seeming much louder and overwhelming. The entire incident…had given him a new perspective. Things just didn't seem the way they used to and now that he thought about it, he felt a little more…vulnerable. Feeling that he no longer could be safe.  
  
He thought about going on the bus, taking the train and heading back to the Academy. He trudged on in the direction of the nearest stop. Along the way though, he became tense, feeling like a thin band ready to snap at any moment. Every time a car honked its horn, he just about jumped out of his sneakers with startled fright. He couldn't understand why he was like this, but his arrival at the stop interrupted his train of thought.  
  
He got onto the bus, sitting down further attempting to just relax, but all along his way to the hyper train terminal, every time there was a sudden noise or bump, he'd get startled badly, surprised that no one was noticing since his face always darted, and a barely audible gasp always escaped his throat.  
  
When the bus joined the big line at the station, Fox was hardly able to get off without looking every which way over his shoulder. His body was shaking just the slightest bit; some sweat came down his brow, and his breathing was shaky.  
  
*Damn it, why cant I just calm down? I'm getting scared at the sound of my own breath now.*  
  
Fox just made the best attempt he could at concentrating on the situation at hand and made his way through the crowds and over to the counter gates. The trains worked kind of like the cars, but instead they hovered a few inches above an electrically charged track, and they went a lot faster and had a lot more carrying capacity. The gate system was simple, just like the concept. Just stick in your credits or multi ticket and it let you in. It was also designed to work with Military ID's.  
  
Fox casually walked to the gate, swiped his ID through and walked through in one swift motion. Then it was just a matter of sitting on a bench and waiting for the train. Now he had some time to think, even though it wasn't too quiet.  
  
*Ugh…what's with me today? I can't do what I normally do very well, and every little noise keeps freaking me out. Guess…it has struck me this hard…how long will I be like this? *  
  
Then as he finished his thought, the train came zooming in and Fox went aboard the train. It was very pleasant inside. It was clean, quiet, and there was a huge glass ceiling. Fox took a seat on one of the bench window seats, and looked up to the sky. It looked beautiful right now, and he remained transfixed on it as the train started to move out of the station. The sky was all he could think about at the moment. He even began to forget everything else as he continued to stare…  
  
*****  
  
Fox began to notice something about the sky. The light seemed to have decreased, and then he heard something, a beep to be exact. He was shaken out of his daydream, and began to remember what was going on. He was still on the train, but the people who were there before were now gone, different people in their places. He looked down at the source of the sudden noise, his watch, and his eyes widened at what was displayed.  
  
*Crap! 1:30?! Did I actually ride for an hour? I have to get back and get my uniform ready! *  
  
Fox felt fortunate that this train was on the primary route, and one of the stops was a station located just one block away from the Academy's Central Gate. So he just stayed on the train until he heard the robotic stop announcement voice call Academy Station. As the train slowed, he got out of his seat, and stood by the door, watching as the scenery zooming by slowed down.  
  
As soon as the doors silently slid open, he got right out of the train, running through some crowds to get to the steps that led to the street level. Once he had a clear area in front of him from the stairs, he began running even faster down the steps and out to the streets. It was an easy run to get to the large central gate of the Academy.  
  
The gate was essentially a large white Archway spreading across a road with the words "Cornerian Defense Military Academy" in metal letters on the top. Within the arches sides, the gates were now folded up. Fox ran to the guard post in the center and went through the formality of signing back in. When that was over with, it was another quick dash to his dorm.  
  
Again, a long run ensued through the grounds, and he promptly dashed straight to the main dorm entrance foyer, into the elevator, and headed to his hallway. He opened the door to his dorm, going in and kicking off his sneakers as he again closed it. He went to the nearby closet to hang his jacket, and a timer tone came from his watch. The watch now shown 1:55.  
  
*Have to get my stuff out.*  
  
He went over to the closet and picked out of it a black case that had the military symbol on it, a eagle over a depiction of Corneria holding olive branches in it's talons, wearing a shield on it's chest. Off to the sides of the eagle/planet symbol were two large olive branches, which crossed ends and the bottom. Below this whole symbol arrangement was Fox's name engraved in a gold color.  
  
The edges of the case were lined with silver, and had metal latches. Fox cleared a space on the floor then set the case down. He flipped open the latches, and a hiss of light rushing air was heard from the case because it was vacuum sealed in that case. When one closed it, the air inside was forced out. This helped keep the uniform in good condition, and often if you dry- cleaned it before putting it in the case, the uniform would still be in fresh enough condition where if you tried you could smell the cleaning agent.  
  
He took out a prep kit he put in the case, which was a large piece of durable paper to put the uniform on, then the shoe polish, metal polish, a small pack of Q-tips, a cleaning cloth, a lint brush, and a tiny scrubbing brush. He set the paper on the floor, and put the equipment to the side before slowly drawing out his uniform. It was a black uniform that had many parts to it.  
  
Essentially, the under part was a white shirt and a tie. The uniform had a saucer hat, which had a gold stripe going around the hat and ended at the Cornerian Military symbol on the front. The pants were just simple dress pants had had a gold stripe going down both sides, and were accompanied by a black leather belt with a gold buckle. The weather cloak was just a black, waterproof cape essentially that attached by way of magnets sewn into the jacket, going over the shoulders, and had extra width so you had the option to have it just behind your back or all around you. Another essential part was the simple black leather boots.  
  
The jacket was the closest thing to extravagant in clothing terms, at least for Fox. On the area where medals went, it was entirely covered with the stripes that represented the many awards he received, plus certain honorary medals. On the shoulder bar, there were four gold bars indicating he was a 4th year, upon the lapel; there was the Cornerian Military symbol, and the air division symbol. Every single button shown the military symbol, and under the right shoulder bar were a couple award ropes.  
  
Fox then drew something that was very special to him. It was his Saber of Merit. It was a curved sword encased in a silver hilt that had his name, and the date of his award engraved upon it. It read "Fox McCloud June 4th 2519". Fox was quite surprised when he got it because only the best of students got it, and at the time, he just ended his first year. He was one of the youngest cadets to ever receive it, one of the others his father. Everyone envied him a bit for the natural talent that helped him have some of the best flying, best grades and citizenship.  
  
When his father got word, he was very proud that his son came to the same place that he had gotten to. Fox always treasured that sword since it held a special value. Every ceremony he attended, he wore that sword at his side. He had a sense of pride from it because of the way everyone admired him for it, particularly his father.  
  
He began the long process of setting his stuff out, and going through a long arduous process of preparation. His plan was to start with the boots, then his uniform, and finally, the saber. Soon, he was crouched over his floor, the window open, the bathroom vent running full speed as he used the strong smelling polish on his boots.  
  
He also turned on the television, and selected the news. The press conference he had heard about had just come on, so he diverted all his attention for the moment to the TV. General Pepper was on the screen as the crowd of reporters silenced, and began to speak.  
  
"People of Corneria, I come before you today, with some dire news. As Academy students and military personnel have been informed, we have lost a pilot, whom was one of the greatest military pilots, and the greatest help to our military and the Cornerian cause. That pilot I speak of is the now late James McCloud."  
  
There was a whole lot of murmuring among the interviewers, and then Pepper raised his hand to silence the crowd.  
  
"According to the survivor of the Star Fox team, they were attempting a mission on Venom when Pigma Dengar, one of his teammates, had betrayed the team. In the whole incident, James McCloud was shot down and is presumed dead. He shall be greatly missed by his comrades and the many people he helped with his efforts. There will be a memorial service held tomorrow on the Academy grounds in his honor. The military now extend their deepest sympathies to the family of James McCloud. Thank you."  
  
Pepper was then mobbed with questions from the press, but all that happened there was either Pepper couldn't tell them or he had no comment. Fox looked down from the screen, and sighed. He didn't really realize that this would be a big deal for the rest of the people. He never quite knew too much about his past military experiences. He just knew of his Star Fox dealings.  
  
He knew however, even with the shock of other people, he was the one who basically took the blow, since of course it was his father, and he was the only remaining family. He kind of appreciated the sympathy, but still, the pit within him remained. He just went back to what he was doing, trying not to think about it, but failing. Even the kink in his neck and the heavy smell of the polish didn't help. He continued to do this as the afternoon wore on.  
  
*****  
  
Fox had been working away at his uniform for the past 3 hours. He worked at his boots for an hour and a half. Then he moved on to his uniform, which he was still working on. He found it strange how he spent this long. But he somewhat understood. He thought that perhaps deep inside he wanted everything to be perfect. He'd be at the ceremony to send off his father, so he didn't want to mess up at all. He fixed every little strap, eyelet, and square inch of leather on his boots, and then he was perfecting his uniform in every little way he could possibly think of. It was during this that his watched beeped.  
  
*5:30! Oh man, I'm gonna be late! *  
  
Fox got up to grab his jacket and sneakers, and headed out the front door. Again, he went to the North Gate, checked out, then headed on over to the train station. The train also took people by the Military Base, which is where he was meeting Bill, Slippy, and Falco at the Officer's Club. Despite the fact it was on a military complex, Academy students and civilians could still come in.  
  
It was about a 5-minute ride before the train came to a stop down the street from the military base. Fox ran over to the gate, flashing his ID as he passed by, and started running again to the officer's club. He eventually found himself at The Officer's Club that despite being a military complex seemed more like a fancied up bar and grill. He went in through the doors and quickly, he eyed the familiar figures of his friends, Bill, Slippy, and Falco. As Fox walked over, they shot glances at him, and their eyes followed him as he sat down at the table.  
  
"Fox…" uttered Bill.  
  
"We…heard the news. The ceremony was announced in the paper." said Falco  
  
"We're real sorry." Slippy said with less chirpiness in his voice than usual.  
  
Fox just remained silent as he stared down at the water that had been waiting for him on the table, saying nothing at all. Bill, Slippy, and Falco were already a little concerned when they heard the news; now it grew by the minute. Bill thought he should try to get into a more pleasant conversation, so that things would run a little more smoothly.  
  
"Eh…hey Fox? How do you think you did on the tests?"  
  
"…Fine."  
  
"Ok…eh…you do anything today?"  
  
"Nothing much."  
  
"Like?"  
  
"…Forget it."  
  
Bill looked over at Slippy and Falco. They all exchanged looks of even more concern, they all knew something was up besides what was being shown. Slippy now attempted what Bill just failed in.  
  
"So…how are you feeling right now?"  
  
Slippy then quickly realized that probably wasn't all that great a question to ask at a time like this. Fox was just completely silent and hardly even breathed. His knuckles also grew whiter as his fist clenched up. Slippy couldn't help but ask, but still felt he probably would mess things up further. Both Bill and Slippy turned to Falco, and Falco grinned slightly to them, thinking that his idea for cheering up Fox would work.  
  
"Hey Fox, how's about we get you a Bottomless Rib Platter, my treat."  
  
"…No thanks."  
  
Slippy had just taken a sip of water, and then he started to chough as it went down the wrong pipe. Bill just sat there frozen, and Falco looked a little confused. Fox never, ever refused ribs when it was offered, and in the rare time that Falco offers something, he always took it. Falco tried to talk without sounding too surprised.  
  
" Scuse me?"  
  
"No thanks."  
  
Bill and Slippy were still kind of surprised that Fox was so down he wouldn't eat, or at least try to be a little more cheerful. Even on his worst days he would still at least eat. Falco couldn't help but put his hand to Fox's forehead to feel his temperature. After his eyes went wide and he drew back his wing, he just sat for a moment.  
  
"You're taking it harder than you're willing to say, aren't you?"  
  
Fox just slowly nodded his head, still being silent.  
  
"Well, have you had anything all afternoon?"  
  
"No…I don't feel like eating."  
  
"Drinking?"  
  
"…Whatever."  
  
Falco just sighed. He basically gave up on this approach. They all knew Fox was very depressed, and that he was in a ways giving them the cold shoulder. Fox had then turned around and noticed something on the other side of the club, a new Arwing simulator room that had been put in recently. They had intended to try it out when they came here.  
  
"How about we give a shot at the simulator?"  
  
"…What?" Bill said with some shock.  
  
"Why not give the sims a shot?"  
  
"Fox…you sure you wanna do that now?" Falco asked.  
  
"Why not? I need the practice."  
  
Reluctantly, everyone followed Fox as he got up. The simulators were the exact same as the military grade, so they all had preferred these simulators to the civilian models. They had a better difficulty level, and in some ways were more high tech. Bill, Slippy, and Falco felt a little uneasy. They couldn't quite get why Fox was doing this at a time like this. They thought perhaps he was hiding something. Even then, they reluctantly went along with the idea, climbing into the simulators.  
  
They started a quick mission, stopping some space pirates from destroying civilian freighters. They had usually done this mission at the Academy for a fast fun mission. This time, Bill was in the lead fighter, taking command of the mission elements.  
  
"All right guys, let's go after these pirates! Falco and Slippy, take the right, Fox, cover me and follow my lead."  
  
They all took their positions as Bill ordered, and began chasing after the pirates. It had begun to go as usual, but Bill had noticed that he was doing a lot more work on flying away from danger than he was accustomed to. He began to wonder about Fox, who by now would've came to help him. He looked over at the part of the simulation screen where Fox's ship was located, and noticed that the ship was shaking a bit this way and that. It was also going nowhere fast.  
  
"Hey Fox, you ok over there?"  
  
The one response he got was complete and utter silence.  
  
"Fox, you there or did you faint?"  
  
"Huh? Uh…yeah I'm here. Why?"  
  
"Just checking. You seem to have some flying problems."  
  
"Oh that, sorry. I'm just not paying attention too well. Can't keep steady."  
  
They all just continued about their business, chasing after the simulated fighters every which way. Then, strangely enough, they couldn't find anything. It was quite a few minutes before suddenly, a couple squads came out of nowhere, flying over Bill. Just then, Bill heard a loud, bloodcurdling scream, a scream that had an overwhelming sound of horror within.  
  
"What in the hell?"  
  
He heard some heavy breathing, but not from him. He heard it from Fox.  
  
"Fox, you okay? Why you breathing so hard?"  
  
He heard nothing but breathing, then looked over at Fox's ship. It was now flying even worse than when he last checked.  
  
"Fox, what's up with your controls?"  
  
His question was interrupted by another wave of fighters, and yet again, he heard the brief scream of fear, and determined the source…Fox. He was getting more worried now, more scared than anything else. He knew very well that no one got this scared, or startled for that matter at a simple simulation, even first timers.  
  
"That's it, I'm canceling this thing now!"  
  
Without a second thought, Bill's fist slammed the abort button, causing the screen before him to go blank. He pushed open the simulator canopy and found Falco and Slippy getting out too. But Fox still didn't get out.  
  
"Bill what's going on?" asked Falco  
  
"It's Fox! Something's wrong!"  
  
Bill went over to Fox's simulator and opened it up, finding Fox breathing very hard and sweating, his hand shaking very hard.  
  
"Fox, what happened?"  
  
"I…I don't know. I just…got a tad jumpy…"  
  
"…Maybe, we should get you home."  
  
"Yeah…I guess."  
  
They helped Fox climb out of the simulator, and headed back out silently to the front door of the club.  
  
*****  
  
They had been silent the whole time, from when the got aboard the train, to when they checked in with the gate guard. They began the long walk back to their dorms. Slippy lived in block E, far from that side of campus, Falco lived in Block C near Fox's block, and Bill was in the same block as Fox. They were on one of the brightly lit main pathways that led to areas throughout the Academy, looking for the branch that headed to the dorms.  
  
Bill looked over at Fox, noticing he still looked kind of shaken. He was very curious as to why he was like this. He in his entire life never heard someone scream like that in a simulation, or anywhere, even in movies or video games. His mind was still spinning from the whole incident.  
  
"Fox…I'm just wondering. What was it that made you that scared?"  
  
Fox looked up to the sky in a quiet, thoughtful manner, and then just sighed heavily as he responded.  
  
"I…I really don't know. I've been like this all day; every little thing scares the hell out of me. I…ever since I got the news, I've been feeling afraid, alone, more vulnerable. I'm so scared right now…about…everything."  
  
As he said these words, he began shivering very hard. Then he grasped at his sides, as if trying to warm himself up.  
  
"Fox, you cold or something?" asked Bill.  
  
"No…I…just, feel…so cold, inside, and…tired."  
  
Slippy, being the curious type, wondered about the whole thing.  
  
"What could be causing something like that?"  
  
"I…think I may know what Fox is talking about…" muttered Falco.  
  
"Well…what?"  
  
"…I'd rather not talk about it."  
  
They just continued walking on to their dorms, but just then for no apparent reason, Fox began to stumble, and fell to the ground. His muzzle hit the hard, craggy pavement, causing a surge of pain to flow through his face, and a cry to come out of his mouth. At this sound his friends hastily doubled back, ducked down and checked on him. Bill quickly grabbed his somewhat scraped hand and pulled him up to his feet.  
  
"Hey Fox, you all right?" Falco asked with worry.  
  
"Augh…my face…"  
  
"What did you do, trip?" asked Slippy.  
  
"My legs…my head…they just gave out."  
  
"What?" questioned Bill.  
  
"I'm so tired all of a sudden…I got this…headache, not from this though. "  
  
They saw blood began to trickle out of his nose profusely, staining his muzzle, and dripping onto the pavement. They were afraid he might have broken it.  
  
"Man…let's get him back to his dorm. Fox, you better hold that nose of yours, stop that blood from getting all over the place. " Falco said in a worried tone.  
  
They got up to go and walked a few feet, but Fox again stumbled a little, this time catching himself as he fell, causing no more than a burning feeling on his palm. Bill quickly doubled back and crouched next to him seeing if he got hurt again. Nothing was different but the fact his nose was still bleeding, and the pavement was stained a deep crimson red with it as it dropped, and as the blood came off the hand that was holding his nose. He saw a look of struggle on Fox's face as he attempted to get himself up.  
  
"Hey, why are you stumbling like that?"  
  
"I…I don't know."  
  
Bill just sighed and helped Fox up to his feet. Fox was able to stand up, so everyone proceeded on their way. They thought everything was fine, but they didn't go too far before Fox took another fall, but this time Falco grabbed Fox before he hit the ground, and set him down gently. And again, Fox attempted to get up under his own power, but didn't have the strength to even make a full effort, and fell again, a look of extreme strain upon his face. Bill loudly sighed in a frustrated manner.  
  
"That's it, I'm helping him back."  
  
"No…I can do it." protested Fox.  
  
"Fox, Bill's right. If this keeps up, your gonna have a flat face by the time you get back. I wouldn't call constantly falling for no reason a small thing. You got that bloody nose after all. " Slippy retorted.  
  
"I'll…be…fine."  
  
He tried getting up , but fell yet again, causing his chest to feel sore. Bill picked up Fox and held him up by the shoulder.  
  
"I'll just take him back."  
  
"…I guess I'll offer a hand. You comin' Slip?" asked Falco.  
  
"Can't, I got my uniform to finish prepping. Wish I could."  
  
"Aw crap…I didn't finish mine." groaned Fox.  
  
"Goddammit man, let's just get you back! I've had enough of this!" said Falco.  
  
"Just think about feeling better Fox. Perhaps you just got some nasty bug." Slippy said optimistically.  
  
The friends then parted ways to head to their dorms. Falco and Bill were supporting Fox the whole way to his dorm. It was a bit of an effort, because Fox had a hard time keeping up his walk, and putting a hand over his bloodied muzzle at the same time. He also kept falling forward, and every time, Bill and Falco had to keep him up.  
  
It was also quite a task getting him through the hallways of the dorm block. Once they had finally arrived there, they went straight to the bathroom, careful to avoid the uniform that was laid out on the gray carpet. Falco and Bill held Fox, as an insurance he wouldn't tumble over and hit his skull on the ivory colored sink. Fox brought the cool water to his muzzle, relieving the stinging pain, and washing his bright red blood off his hands and face. The blood just simply mingled with the water, and flowed down the drain, and it kept on like this until the blood stopped flowing out of Fox's nostrils.  
  
"So Fox…you need to lie down or something?" Bill asked, still concerned about the mysterious collapses his friend was having.  
  
"Yeah…I think I do need to lie down. I can make it."  
  
"You sure?"  
  
"Just…let me try."  
  
Fox left the grip of his friends, and slowly stumbled in the direction of his bed, but hardly went a few feet before he took another fall, Bill stopping him from crashing onto the laid out uniform by grabbing his shirt collar. Before Fox's shirt began to cut into his neck, Bill pulled him up back upright by the arm, placing his own arm around Fox's shoulders, and leading him over to the gray bed in the corner. He turned his friend around, and slowly laid him down on the bed. At the other side of the room, Falco grabbed a chair and took a seat. Bill joined Falco at the table, and both then were facing in the direction of Fox, looks of great concern crossed upon their faces.  
  
Fox was laying there on the bed, completely still with his right hand over his eyes, his left hanging limply over the edge of the bed. He didn't communicate with his friends in any way, but just lay, breathing heavely, staring through his fingers up at the ceiling.  
  
"Fox…this thing about your dad. It's really hit you hard, didn't it?" asked Bill.  
  
"….yes, it did." Fox said with a heavy air of reluctance  
  
"Agh…I, have to tell you something Fox. I know what you're going through…seriously, I know. "said Falco.  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"I…lost my folks too."  
  
Immediately, Bill's ears perked up, and he started paying attention to Falco, so did Fox, despite his current condition. They felt that Falco was going to say something about his past, and Falco hardly ever revealed anything about his past, nor did anyone know it, so whenever he even mentioned the smallest thing, they always listened very closely.  
  
"You…did?" asked Fox.  
  
"Yeah. I still remember it, all too well. I was twelve at the time, and I was coming home from hanging out with some friends. I walked in, and there were some thugs, beating my parents. I tried to stop them…but I was too little…"  
  
He paused, sighed, and continued on.  
  
"They knocked me out real hard, and I was out until the next day. I found myself in the HQ of the gang my parents used to be in, before they had me and went legit. The guys…told me they were killed, and I was the sole survivor. We later found out that the thugs were from a rival gang who held bad blood with my father, particularly since he was a transport pilot and frequently helped the old gang out if they were in a spot…"  
  
A single tear glistened down the feathers on his face before he wiped it away, and cursed himself.  
  
"God damn, I always get like this when I think about it. That's why…I don't like to talk about it…but now, the point is that I was awful bummed for months, possibly up until I got into the Academy. For a while, I wouldn't eat, sleep, and I had these weird losses of energy and whatnot that Fox has been havin'. If it weren't for the gang members being so committed to caring for me afterwards, I'd probably be worse off then I was four years ago."  
  
Again he sighed, and placed a hand down upon the table, as if he had used up a lot of energy just then. Bill and Fox were still reeling from the terrible story, remaining completely silent. They never knew Falco ever went through anything of that magnitude.  
  
"Falco…I'm so sorry…" Fox half whispered.  
  
"Dude, that doesn't matter. It was 6 years ago, the past; I've dealt with it. What matters now is that you're all out of wack, not acting like you. It's really worrying us."  
  
"Why? It's not your problem…"  
  
"Hey, we're friends right? Friends stick by each other. If we didn't, what kinda selfish bastards would we be?" said Bill, making a somewhat bad attempt at lightening up the dreary atmosphere.  
  
Silence reigned between the three for a while. There was not a word spoken, just the eyes of Falco and Bill looking over at the eyes of Fox, one side filled with concern, another with a deep sadness unwilling to reveal itself. It wasn't too long before a tone from Falco's watch shattered this silence, reminding him it was 45 minutes till curfew.  
  
"I have to go, otherwise I'll be busted…"  
  
"Same here." Bill muttered.  
  
  
  
"I understand." Fox said quietly.  
  
  
  
Bill and Falco got up from their seats, heading over to the door. Falco was quick to head out into the hall, but Bill stopped for a moment and turned back to Fox.  
  
"Erm…don't spend too much time on that bed. Your uniform is still out."  
  
"Aw man…thanks for reminding me."  
  
"No prob. And…don't beat yourself up over, all that's happened."  
  
"….I'll try."  
  
"If you…need someone to talk to…we're here for you."  
  
Fox just silently nodded from his spot, and Bill slowly turned away, joining his friend in the hallway as he hit the door button behind him. The pair walked down the hall for a few feet, then they spun the thoughts of the night's events about in their minds.  
  
"Poor guy…I feel so sorry for him…" Falco said under his breath.  
  
"Falco…I'm just wondering, why are you all of a sudden…caring so much that you show it? I mean, in all the time I knew you, I've never seen you…try to make someone feel better."  
  
"Well…don't go telling everyone, but ever since the day he started trying to get me into this place, he's been like a little brother to me, the way he's always cared about me and what I do, in a somewhat annoying way. Yet somehow, I like him for that. I guess I'm just giving back a bit"  
  
"Hmm…I can relate to him being kind of like a brother…he's always cared about everyone else…"  
  
Back in the room, Fox had continued working on his uniform, going over every last button, every last medal, every last detail of his clothing, and eventually, every square inch of his saber. He had completely polished it, until every single part glimmered light, and he could clearly see his own reflection. He also did the same with the scabbard. As he set down the blade with the uniform on the floor and covered it with a sheet, he looked up at his bedside clock, and saw in plain red 2:14.  
  
He quickly changed into his bedclothes, knowing that Reveille was at 6:00, and for the ceremony, he would need all the energy he could muster. He knew he was going to have a major day, trying to go through the entire ceremony, and not to crack up too much. Despite the fact he would only get 4 hours of sleep, he had to have all the rest he could.  
  
He promptly rushed over to the bathroom, brushed his teeth, and went over to his bed, a feeling of refreshment in his mouth, but drowsiness in his mind and spirit. He slowly undid the covers as he crashed onto the bed, and crawled under. He weakly clapped his hands twice, automatically shutting off the lights in the room, and curled up under the covers, bringing them close to him. As he sank into his bed, and let a feeling of relaxation overwhelm him, he noticed one light that didn't go out, a small blinking red light.  
  
Curious, he clapped his hands again, bringing the lights on, and his eyes tracked the source down to the answering machine next to the phone.  
  
*What the? Who called me?*  
  
He reluctantly crawled out of his bed, knowing that the call must've come while he was gone. He pressed a button on the answering machine, and was greeted by its masculine robotic voice.  
  
"You have one message. Friday, 6:07 pm. 'Hey Fox, it's Peppy. I came back from talking with the General. Sorry to call you this late, but…we'd like you to make a speech at the ceremony, a eulogy of sorts. I know it may be hard to come up with something this quickly, but we think you're the best person to do it. If you can't think of anything…the best advice I can give is say what's in your heart. Sorry if this turns out to be too hard for you. Anyways, best of luck to you. I'll see you at the parade ground tomorrow.' End of message."  
  
As the answering machine beeped, a knot formed in Fox's stomach, and his throat felt a little choked.  
  
*I, have to make a speech now? Oh god…oh god…*  
  
He absolutely didn't know what to do. Now he had to talk about his father, talk in front of a crowd, not only about him but probably how it struck him. It was more than he could take. He had absolutely no time to prepare. Besides that, he didn't think he could keep a straight face, that he couldn't last through without breaking down in tears. He slowly stumbled back to his bed, again wrapping the warm blankets around him, laying his head upon the thick pillow.  
  
He only had 4 hours until morning, all of which he had to use for sleep. The thought of what he was going to do had kept him up for an hour before the weight of his eyelids came down over his eyes, and exhaustion had relaxed his body into a deep, but not so satisfying sleep, as warm tears came out of his eyes, and a feeling of dread filled his mind at the thought of facing the next day.  
  
  
  
Note to readers: Keep coping with me, the good stuff WILL come. Just please cope with me, I have lot's of things to do besides this story, and it takes time to make quality writing. 


	5. Chapter 4: Sendoff

Note: At long last, Ive gotten off my lazy butt, with no more school stuff in my way, and finally committing myself to getting this story DONE. It's been going on way too long…so…enjoy.  
  
"My walls are closing in. Without a sense of confidence I'm convinced there's just too much pressure to take. I've felt this way before, so insecure."  
  
-Crawling, Linkin Park, Earth  
  
"I'm not afraid of tomorrow. I'm only afraid of myself."  
  
-Tomorrow, SR-71, Earth  
  
"Losing my sight, losing my mind, wish somebody would tell me I'm fine."  
  
-Last Resort, Papa Roach, Earth  
  
Chapter 4: Sendoff  
  
The landscape surrounding Fox became clearer. It seemed that a barren wasteland surrounded him… And above in the orange skies were familiar flying shapes that gave him a sense of dejavu, fighting, some exploding, going at each other's throats for ages with searing beams of blue and red. One was caught, and destroyed by an enormous round shape in a fireball of hot white by a beam colored an evil and ghastly green that made his fur stand on end. The ball of fire reached him and he felt the searing heat burn through his very essence…   
  
"Ahhh!!"  
  
Fox was roughly awakened from his shallow sleep. He remembered the dream, it was the same as the one the night before, but clearer in image. He didn't know what it was that caused him to wake with a scream, breathing like he just ran a five-mile run at top speed, and sweat pouring down his entire body like flowing water. It was something in that dream that scared him and drove his adrenaline high, but he didn't know what it was. He had a feeling there was something within that was blurred out, and it remained hidden except in a locked away part of his mind. His mind felt heavy when he tried to think about it, and slowly, he forgot about it among his weariness and throbbing body.  
  
The room was as dark as the deepest cave except for the very small amount of light that seeped in through the thin cracks of the window blinds, and the digital clock that was flashing a crimson 5:45 that stood out like a beacon in the sea of darkness. The light that came through the windows didn't have the warm, bright yellow glow of sunlight, but a colder, darker gray light. Curious, Fox shoved the heavy sheets and comforter of his bed off to the side, avoiding the set out uniform as he got up drearily, and opened the blinds with a press of a nearby button that lay within a wall panel, not even feeling the sudden surge of cold air that flowed over his body after he got out of bed, just about freezing the sweat still trickling down his body.   
  
As the blinds opened with a quiet hum, Fox saw outside that the sky was entirely dark gray, and the ground below was blanketed an icy white, as was the buildings outside. He also saw snowflakes, falling gracefully and slowly through the air, as if dancing. The world looked abandoned and empty, as if the apocalypse had happened and he slept right through it, the cold snow and him the only survivors.   
  
*For once, the weathermen were right…*  
  
Outside, it looked to be extremely bitter and cold. Not a single soul had left footprints in the snow on the pathways. The ground was pure and untouched as of now. It looked to be that the blanket of snow was at least a few inches; making Fox thankful the formal boots were made of waterproof leather. The snow didn't look like it was ready to let up anytime soon.   
  
He had an idea of how the morning would go. He would have an hour for breakfast, and afterwards have two hours to get ready. Now was the half-hour period before breakfast was served during which people got changed and prepped up. The worst thing he thought about, however, was he had no eulogy despite the small amount of sleep he lost over thinking about it. He had nothing he could think of saying, despite the best efforts of his already overtaxed mind. There was nothing that he could turn into a eulogy good enough for this situation, so he felt.  
  
He thought of this as he changed into a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt. Nothing came still, and he mentally panicked of how he might look if he choked up there with nothing to say. He already had to worry about breaking down in tears in front of the huge crowd, and this didn't make it any better.   
  
With a heavy sigh, he went to his coat closet, grabbing a parka, and putting on his sneakers before heading out the door...  
  
The hallway was chillier than usual, and Fox almost swore his breath could be seen. The heating systems took a while to warm up, and this snowstorm was very sudden. He walked down toward the elevator, the sound of his steps being the first to fill the halls that day along with his cold breath.  
  
As he walked through the sliding doors, the hum of the elevator motor starting as the doors closed again, Fox didn't have any thoughts on his mind besides the ceremony. He still didn't have the slightest notion as to how he was going to handle this important situation. Being half-stunned in grief didn't help him at all. His foot was stuck in the track and the train was speeding along straight towards him.   
  
The humming continued, sending Fox into his own little universe, but unfortunately a horrid one full of nothing but empty plains and darkness all around. He already felt shivers go down his spine, and already, felt the energy begin to seep out of him. It wasn't until the quiet ding of the elevator reached his ears did his muscles feel less tight.  
  
As he walked out, his body was met with a blast of freezing cold air. The foyer was closest to the glass doors, and they didn't offer much insulation to the cold temperatures. Fox could clearly see a large amount of his breath, as he got closer to the door. When he pushed his bare hand against the door, it felt like ice, complimenting the temperature of the foyer.  
  
As the door came open, he felt the wind blow, bringing along with it biting cold, and featherweight flakes of snow onto his face. As he shivered in the cold, he zipped up the parka, making him feel warmer very quickly as he set out across the thick white blanket set out upon the Academy grounds, not a single inch left untouched, the fountains drained, the statues now just crude white silhouettes.  
  
As his heavy feet left deep prints in the snow heading in the direction of the cafeteria, his eyes looked up to the frozen, gray sky, that continued to send forth it's barrage of snow, which then brought forth a surge of rushing memories from distant places of his mind. They were memories of the past, a past where his father existed. He remembered suddenly, the countless winters, when they would go out, playing in the snow, doing whatever, whether it be sledding, snowball fights, anything. He remembered a very early time when his mother was alive and well, with them, laughing and having good times outside and at home. He remembered the winter he and his father had alone, not too long after his mother died, and his father was trying to fill in the empty places at home and within their hearts. Then the later winters when they were back on track, happy and moving on with life, making joy out of the cold weather, with Christmas, hot drinks, happy moments, and the times in the snow.  
  
Now, he felt that this winter would be a repeat, of that same colder, quiet winter that took place the year of his mother's death, the one where even his father was fairly silent, and the season wasn't joyful feeling. But…instead of having someone who could share the pain, he would have to go into the fray of emotions alone. No one he knew, could possibly know how he felt. There was Falco, perhaps, but he couldn't be very sympathetic or supportive for his own life. Besides him, Fox had no one. The pair of single tears that had dropped from his dreary, heavy eyes had quickly frozen on the ends of his facial fur into an icy powder, and blown off, joining the snow in the white blanket that cast a darker more desolate scene all around.   
  
Fox slowly trudged on in the general direction of the mess hall, feeling colder from his time outside. He began to notice sets of footprints here and there as he went further towards the central areas of the complex. His thoughts however did not stop to be sidetracked, and it was deep enough to where he didn't notice the presence of his friend Bill coming behind him at a rapid pace tearing roughly through the thick layer of snow.  
  
"Fox! Wait up man!" Bill shouted to Fox.  
  
Fox just continued to keep walking, holding his sides, trying to contain his chills, whether they be from outside because of the weather…or within from dark memories. Bill eventually had caught up to Fox, who was still unaware of his presence. Bill, seeing that Fox didn't notice him yet, gave him a gentle tap on the shoulder, resulting in Fox shouting in fright, and spinning around, seeing the other now bewildered and concern stricken face.  
  
"Hey… you ok man?" Bill asked with worry as he saw the horribly bloodshot eyes of Fox, lines of bright blood red running like rivers towards the iris in each one. It was hard to see though, because of how Fox's tired eyelids sagged in thick bags of flesh…  
  
"I'm... I'm fine. I just got startled that's all…"  
  
"Something on your mind?"  
  
"Kind of…" Fox said in an attempt to cover up his worries.  
  
Bill just stared, confused, and Fox looked away, still trying to hide his inner self away from Bill, and everything else while continuing a steady stream of thoughts and memories that was capturing his mind better than anything else.  
  
"Hey, let's get outta the cold. We're gonna freeze out here," Bill said, interrupting the stream in Fox's mind.   
  
"…Ok."  
  
Bill and Fox trudged on, silence accompanied by the voice of the wind remaining between the two as they walked on. As they neared the mess hall area, they saw more prints, which then equaled out to more people further on. Eventually, they were in a small quiet line at the mess. When they got in, they split. Fox went to the usual spot in a corner of the large, circular hall where their friends sat, right next to one of the enormous windows. Bill just looked over his shoulder, wondering why Fox wasn't going straight for the food like he always did. Gradually, he allowed the thought to slip a little from his mind as he joined the crowds, storing it away in the back.  
  
Fox pulled out a chair at the table where he and his friends usually sat, a medium sized table right next to one of the large, glass viewing windows, a perfect spot to view the outside world. All the furniture in the Mess Hall was metal, so they felt very cold to touch. The heating systems still had a long way to go. Even then, Fox just sat down after putting his jacket on his chair, resting his head in his arms while looking off to the side, seeing what he could of the snow outside.  
  
Gradually, everything was zoned out from his mind, the noise, the crowds, everything. He just continued to stare out the window, seeing the flakes of ice in the sky perform their dance, with not a care in the world.  
  
*They're so free…free from everything…*  
  
He began wishing he were a snowflake, wishing he could just dance, not worrying about working, not worrying about speeches about someone very close to him, and not worrying about…death. He sighed heavily, not even noticing the fog it produced on the window. His thoughts spiraled, bringing upon thought after thought, memory after memory. It wasn't until the clatter of Bill's tray did he come out of thought very startled, shooting straight up in his seat.  
  
"Whoa! Sorry I woke ya up like that." Bill said quickly.  
  
"Ugh…what?"  
  
"You were sleeping weren't you?"  
  
"Nah, just…just resting my head. I didn't sleep all that well last night."  
  
"Oh, all right. Eh…here, I got you something."  
  
Bill took from his tray a plain aluminum can that was marked in plain black letters "Chocolate Flavored Energy Beverage" and put it in front of Fox before going back to his breakfast. Fox just looked at the dull can for a moment before he casually pushed it off to the side.  
  
"Thanks, but I'm not hungry."  
  
"Dude, I can understand not wanting to feel stuffed, but you have to have some energy to work with."  
  
Just as casually as Fox had put it to the side, Bill had put it back in front of him. He chuckled causing Fox to look up with sudden confusion and curiosity at his behavior. It heightened when he saw Bill holding his sides and having tears coming out.  
  
"Hey, what's so funny?"  
  
"Ha ha ha! I'm…I'm just thinking…hoo…I'm just thinking I don't want to have to carry your heavy ass like I did last night! Ah ha ha! ….heh…"  
  
Bill stopped laughing very quickly as he saw Fox remain silent and with a face as still as stone. Fox didn't even crack a smile but just kept looking at Bill in a somewhat bewildered manner. Bill then began feeling very stupid about his attempt to try and crack a joke, beginning to shut up and go back to his breakfast of cold, military produced bacon and eggs rations. The Academy was currently in a phase of working with a smaller budget with recent maintenance of the army, and because of it, the kitchens were reduced to using prefab food instead of making it fresh, saving power for the heaters during the winter.  
  
Fox just sighed and opened up the can of liquid that was given to him. He quickly chugged it down in one gulp, hardly even noticing the chalky chocolate flavor and the oddly watery texture of the military manufactured drink, before he brought the can down hard onto the table, making a loud, empty metallic clank. He sat, thinking again, making a connection in his memory between chocolate, and how both he and his father loved anything that had it.  
  
Quickly, he remembered it. The eulogy. It was way into the morning, and he still didn't have one. As he thought of this, a feeling of dread hammered away at him, and when he realized that he didn't even have one word, he groaned silently, and let his head drop to the table hard enough to make it noticeably shake.   
  
This shaking caused Bill to look up, his eyes instead of meeting those of Fox met the sight of him just laying there, not moving at all except for when he breathed, and when his ears had drooped down in a defeated manner. There was an air of fatigue around Fox that Bill could sense, and he didn't like it, the way its presence was so clear without even trying to see it.   
  
"Hey, you ok?" Bill asked.  
  
"Huh?" Fox muttered as he looked up again.  
  
"Are you ok? You look really stressed out."  
  
"Yeah, course I'm ok."  
  
Bill just looked into Fox's eyes, and knew he was hiding something inside of him. Not only did his voice not sound natural, but also, there was this dark lackluster look within his eyes, one that just wasn't familiar. As Bill continued looking, Fox began noticing, knowing he failed in hiding his feelings. He hung his head down again, and Bill just sat forward as he set down his fork, trying to find the right words to say.  
  
"Something's bugging you, right? Besides…"  
  
Fox despite having admitted defeat to himself, still had refused to let down his defense, refusing to bring Bill into his inner conflict. He let his head down again, crashing onto the cold table in the same fashion as earlier, and sat still. Bill was staring; ears drooped, as he opened his mouth halfway, trying bringing out what he could of his contemplated words.  
  
"Is it…because of what happened to…"  
  
Fox still didn't want to talk. He wanted to just lay down in the cold, not wanting to think about it, and just to remain to himself. As Fox raised his head slightly, his eyes met Bill's. The other eyes had a look of sincere worry, and the face around them emphasized this in how it's features had a solemn, serious look to them that gave a sense of heightened awareness. Fox couldn't suppress an inner reaction to get his friend relieved of being in the dark on this, so he slowly nodded his head, reluctance making the action feel even harder on his already beaten body and soul.  
  
Bill had a feeling of the answer, particularly when he saw Fox's half closed eyes, encircled by marks of fatigue, and having put two and two together. He didn't know what to say to Fox, and he tried to think of something to allow him to let out steam, while still handling the situation like he would handle a very fragile heirloom.  
  
"You can't get your mind off it, or what?" Bill said very quietly and seriously, not in the same cheery tone he usually spoke in. He was about as serious and stiff as a mountain, knowing something was causing some kind of deep, profound suffering within his friend, one he couldn't see or make out in severity. Never having known much psychology, he probably would've had better chances flying through space mines with his eyes closed.  
  
Fox truly shut up, and shut Bill off as he turned off to the window, gazing at the whiteness outside, eyes seemingly trying not to make eye contact with Bill, as they quietly viewed the dancing of the flakes of ice.   
  
Bill saw a glint in Fox's face, but not the glint that a happy person would have, or the normal glint all eyes had. It was a glint that was wavering within his eyes, and then seemed to move a ways out of his eyes. They were tears, tears of sadness made distinctive by the look of the eyes, dark, and without spirit. Bill had a pit like feeling within, being careful to select the right words. Provoking anger was not exactly the doctor's prescription at the moment. "Fox…please…tell me what's wrong. I…I'm worried for you man…I want to help you if I can."  
  
Fox continued his silence as he heard these words, and silently took them in, soon seeing the feelings behind them, feelings of deep worry. He didn't want to have to reveal his own feelings; he didn't want to have to make his friends think about him. But he did figure, if they were this worried, why not give them some peace of mind. On the other hand, it could also bring more memories, more nightmares…  
  
Fox sighed deeply, about emptying his lungs completely to nothing more than idle sacks. He hung his head low, looking through half closed eyes at the floor, and trying to bring the words out through the heavy, tight knot in his throat. The silence passed for moments, before finally, Fox uttered out his choked words.  
  
"I have to make a speech…"  
  
"Speech? What…what do you mean?"  
  
Fox was brought back to the very thought that was ringing in his head all morning, and his eyes became more teary as he relived it yet again while trying to word out his emotions, emotions that really couldn't be quite worded out at all because of their vastness.  
  
"…I have to make a eulogy at the ceremony."  
  
"What?!"  
  
Bill was shocked when he heard the words uttered out quietly. As far as he knew, no one contacted Fox the whole time about something like that. He wondered just who would think of putting him in a position like that and so quickly, particularly since he would probably have to deal with that at the formal funeral. The ceremony scheduled was supposed to be for the Academy and some of the Military, nothing more than a mixture of formality and sorrow.  
  
"Dude, what's going on?"  
  
"Peppy…he called me last night at about six. It was on the answering machine right when I went to bed at about two in the morning. He…he said it was decided I was the best person to do it…"  
  
"I know you probably are…but are they that wrapped up in the whole thing that they have to bring out all the cadets and even drag you out at the last minute?"  
  
"I was told…my dad was a bit of a hero back then, and the military was making a big deal…but now I have to do this? I…I was kept awake all night just trying to think of one word, and I have nothing…"  
  
Bill was well stunned. A whole different stress was placed on Fox, a somewhat essential one, but still, it seemed like it was very much for the young vulpine. Bill's quiet eyes had analyzed Fox's, and saw deeper into him to see he was containing feelings of pressure while trying to cope with sadness at the same time, yet still keeping a hard face.  
  
"Oh my god…" Bill half whispered, feeling it was all he could possibly say.   
  
Fox had turned away again, feeling he had given too much and did no more than bring his best friend into the conflict, bringing to him a white elephant full of stress and burden, and that it wasn't beneficial to do so. He wanted to hit himself right then and there, but even if he could, he felt too tired to even try.   
  
Feeling he had no further purpose to be at the Mess Hall, he grabbed his jacket and got up as his chair screeched loudly across the tile floor, just as nails would on a chalkboard. As he turned on his heel, Bill called out to him.  
  
"Hey, where ya going?"  
  
"Just…I'm going to get ready a little early," Fox said with heaviness in his voice.  
  
"Oh, ok. I'll see you later then…"  
  
Fox slowly trudged away towards the entrance of the mess hall, heading out into the bleak and gloomy cold once again…  
  
*****  
  
Fox had been walking for a while across the thicker blanket of snow. He was pretty much the only one on the grounds as he went back over tracks that were slightly filled in, as everyone was probably in the Mess. He had been thinking, about the conversation that had ensued between him and Bill. There was a feeling of explosive pressure within his head as he thought of this.  
  
Knowing Bill, he would probably feel concern and mention it to Falco and Slippy. Then they would be worried too. Fox felt as if he had started some horrible chain reaction, and it was entirely his fault. Sighing heavily as he thought of this, his walk slowed, causing the ends of his tail hairs to barely drag along the snow, and his posture stooped. He bore a look of deep depression as he trudged, head hanging low, body slightly bent over, as if an unmerciful force had defeated him into misery.  
  
The biting cold had stopped bothering him a long time ago…it was the cold from within that was bothering him more. It was a cold that had spread throughout his body, and even penetrating into his spirit… No matter, he continued his walk, trying to find his way by the blurred silhouettes of the buildings and the occasional sign, all of which hard to find since their color matched that of the thin amount of fog. Fox mentally slapped himself, being frustrated with how he wasn't finding the way by memory as he usually did.   
  
He stopped for a moment, standing straight as he strained to clearly remember, closing his eyes tightly. All that had resulted was a memory as blurred as the scene around him, and a hammering headache. He grasped his head slightly as he tried to keep his balance. He slowly crouched down, holding his head with one hand, supporting his weight with the other. His head was throbbing, and his vision had slightly blurred. Quietly, Fox let out a groan, shaking his head as he got back up. He blinked the blurriness out of his eyes, and slowly went back to trudging.   
  
*What the hell is wrong with me…*  
  
This he mentally thought out, over and over, as he had dragged his feet through the snow, still thinking this even when he had come upon the alcove of his dormitory block. He pushed open the door, feeling a rush of warmer air bear in on him. Scuffing his shoes on the floor, he shook off the snow from his body, and trudged forward to the elevator.  
  
After he pressed the button, the only sound that had filled the quiet halls were the humming sounds of the elevator motor, and the tense airy sound of Fox's breathing. From here, Fox became autonomous, walking into the elevator without a thought, his mind a barren plain with dark clouds on the horizon.   
  
The ride went along, stopping, bringing along a further monotonous reaction from Fox as he walked out into the chilly hallway, walking towards his room filling the hallway with the echoes of his lonely footsteps upon the tiled floor.   
  
Upon entering the key code to his dorm, the door slid open with a silent hissing. His feet dragged heavily along the floor as he entered, the snow left on his sneakers soaking into the carpet with every drag. He kicked them off lazily into a dark corner of the room, and he slowly turned his tired gaze over to the uniform that he had set out the night before.   
  
He threw off his jacket, and began to change for the ceremony…  
  
*****  
  
  
  
Fox stared into the fogged bathroom mirror, delicately going over every hair on his head as he combed it over, as an artist would with a painting. He had fully dressed into his uniform over the span of a couple hours, making sure every last detail was as perfect as he could get it. He had undone every wrinkle, and dusted off every inch. He even went as far to take a long, hot shower before hand, easing some of his outer chills, allowing him to think a little more clearly as if some type of heater in his mind cleared his fogged up window of thought processes.   
  
Finally being satisfied, he set down the comb and grabbed the nearby bottle of hair gel. He squirted some of the cold jelly like liquid into his hand, and rubbed it about his hair with the same careful detail as before. He looked over himself afterwards, looking for any little flaw, before he mentally slapped himself for forgetting to comb his tail over.   
  
He grabbed a larger, harder brush nearby with one hand as he took his tail with another. With a long session of slow, smooth strokes across the coat, it went from a dull rough look to being smooth and glossy as if it were made of silk. He set the comb back, again looking in the cold mirror. One may have considered his tidiness insanity. Others may have seen that he was trying to be his best for his father, one last time.   
  
At the moment, he was just wearing his clean white dress shirt and his uniform pants, still creased despite having been worn for the past hour. His jacket and other things were still in their places outside in the living room. Fox looked again at himself, making sure his face was completely smoothed out, and that his teeth were clean, otherwise not looking like some lazy first year. He cupped his hands around his muzzle, into them, and being displeased with the odor, grabbed a little sprayer full of breath freshener. He pressed the head, bringing a cold, tingly mist into his mouth that felt as fresh as a crisp rainy day. Satisfied, he slowly turned to leave the bathroom, but stopped midway when his eyes were drawn to a shiny object.  
  
He saw a small shelf that had some knick-knacks on it, replacement trimmer heads, toothpaste, and other odds and ends. What caught his eye however was a small glass bottle filled with dark amber colored liquid. It hadn't been opened before by the looks of the cap, still wrapped in a plastic seal. Not remembering what it was, he picked it up to look at it closer, feeling some reason to examine it.  
  
As he carefully looked it over, gently rubbing over the glass and the cap, memories rushed to him. It was a bottle of fine, expensive cologne that his father had given him a year ago for Christmas. It was the type his father used all the time. Fox remembered how he always complained the smell was too strong. His dad used it anyways, feeling it made him what he called "distinctive". He was actually right about it. When in a crowd, Fox just had to sniff around for a strong scent resembling some very strong liquor to find him.   
  
He sighed sadly at the surge of memories that came from his thoughts, thinking of the many times that he nestled into his father's chest or shoulder when getting a hug, only to be blown back with a stinging nose, and ears full of laughter from himself and his father. He looked at it for moments, still stroking the cylindrical form for minutes. The glass felt very cold as he did this, before breaking the hard plastic seal open. He poured drops of the contents into his hand before he patted it down on his face, just for some good measure. The smell that came from the liquid brought forth a continuous stream of the heavy memories…most of which from his younger years, years that for the most part were happy times, highlights of his life that he would never forget.   
  
He sighed heavily as he closed the bottle, setting it back in its place before leaving the room, the pleasant scent that was present greatly subsiding except for that that came from him, making the memories subside along with it. He trudged over to where he left the other pieces of his uniform lay in a neat order on his bed. He picked up his jacket, smoothing it out even though there were no wrinkles to be seen on the entire garment. Perfectionism had struck him for the past few hours. It wasn't about to stop. Distraction was proving to be doing good for him…  
  
Fox turned his body towards the large mirror that was attached to his closet. He stared at himself in the mirror as he slowly slipped the jacket across his shoulders, straightening out his tie as if he were searching for something within the image of himself. The mirror was not only acting as a point of reference for his personal appearance, but also a gate deep to deep within himself, allowing him to see what was in him. At the moment, it was a blurred vision that shown nothing but the same figure doing the same thing over and over again. Throughout image, he was smoothing out the uniform over and over for no real apparent reason, as if he saw the wrinkles, yet it seemed as if they weren't even there.  
  
Nonetheless, it continued, and he was mildly satisfied, finally slipping the gold buttons into their holes, closing off his body from the outside. Despite the efforts however, he still felt as if something was wrong. With the award ropes, he took the same delicate touch with them as he had done with everything else, trying to achieve a certain perfection that evaded him. Eventually, his form sunk low as he gave up and had to take what he could get yet again. He sighed fairly heavily, just as if he were some kind of reactor that was being pushed over its limits and someone released the pressure after having finally tried so hard to fix it. It was apparent to him when he saw his slumped form in the mirror. He stared longer, before putting on his hat with a feathered touch, not even feeling it drop on his head.  
  
While he was doing this, he noticed the mirror fogging up physically, and not just in his mind's eye. Faintly, his short-term memory came to him, telling him it was snowing outside. He mentally hit himself as he turned his head lazily towards his window, looking through the thin slats and glass so blurred with condensation that it may as well have been an ocean of fog outside instead of the Academy grounds.   
  
He faintly saw the snowflakes, still going at the same dance that they were performing only hours ago. They still made the same slow, carefree movements, seemingly not knowing about the graveness all around. They for the most part, appeared to the untrained eye as snowflakes just falling down, but yet to Fox, he swore that he saw a few passing by that were making a show. They were the few that set themselves apart from the others by going at the rapid dance of joy, rather than the more expected slower dance of gloom.   
  
They were these snowflakes that made the more subdued memories within him come out alive, faintly, but making themselves known. They were the same winter memories of his past, but this time piercing not with the gentle touch that a snowflake would give as it dropped. It was a fast, sharp blow similar to a cold knife piercing its way straight into you, going far inside to hurt you deep enough to where it sometimes can't be seen.   
  
Some were mere repeats, some deeper moments, such as his mother and him walking together in a snowy forest outside the city, having their share of moments that took place deep into his heart forever more from that time. Later memories of him and his father hit him too, however in higher amounts than the first strike at breakfast. The icy knife was starting to twist in his chest…  
  
The figments in his mind continued to flow smoothly, and it was with the same smooth flow that Fox took hold of the heavy, rubberized cape that was his ceremonial, wet weather cloak. The shoulders felt like pieces of a suit of armor that a knight of ancient times would don, giving him a fairly good feeling of the medium infantry class armor he tried once during basic arms training when he first got in the Academy. Everything below was a large waterproof cape that could either be folded back to leave the front open, or closed all the way.  
  
He lifted the heavy garment above his shoulders, and set them down yet again with a light touch. As the broad clothing got closer to his shoulders, there was a loud metallic click as the magnets in the cloaks shoulders had connected to the magnets sewn into his jacket. It felt to Fox as if someone placed a heavy object upon his shoulders suddenly. The cape was now messy, and Fox soon pulled it out and smoothed it, soon connecting the two sides together at the top tie down, shutting the top part of his form even further away from the world.   
  
The way he did all this reminded him of particular times when he was but a toddler, and his mother put on his rain gear in the same meticulous manner whenever he went outside. He thought of the many times she did this before…it happened. As his chest became filled with hollowness, he blocked off the memories of the distant past that he held dearly. Not aware of it, his mind asked why did it hold if it hurt…  
  
Escaping his thoughts, he looked up at the mirror again, still not seeing the missing pieces. He had everything, and he was totally covered head to toe. It wasn't until he took a good look at his hands and the side of his belt that he realized what was wrong. Turning to his left, he saw the polished glimmer of his curved saber, sitting on his table in it's scabbard, waiting to be taken from the desk and taken out for the first time in a long while. Next to them was a pair of black, all weather leather gloves that was part of the uniform. Not wanting to make a blemish upon the saber with his body oil, he took hold of the black gloves by the hand, not holding onto the flared ends that made the gloves themselves a tad more formal looking.  
  
Under his hand, they felt very smooth and clean. He slipped a glove onto his left hand, the hand moving smoothly into the glove with the same feeling as on the outside. The glove took over his hand as they were encased and sealed away, the flared wrist end also taking along his wrist. The brother of the first glove did the exact same thing.  
  
The gleaming saber, a symbol of Fox's pride and efforts at the Academy was the one thing left of the former pile, still laying in its scabbard as it was before still playing the way it was earlier with the light in the room, a shimmering glow of some sorts. He reached out towards it, his hand briefly hovering before it slowly set itself upon the cold casing. It felt odd to Fox how he could feel its temperature even through the thick gloves. Noticing the less shined look it had the night before, he came to the conclusion that the cold was taking its toll yet again, making the saber look less beautiful.   
  
He sighed at how despite his best efforts, there was still going to be something that wasn't quite right in his attire. He didn't have much choice however, as he didn't know just how far he could go before he had to finish up. Reluctantly, he brought the scabbard to his right side, prying open the clip as he slipped it on to his belt, moving it slowly down until he heard the two metal sides of the clip clack together in a small but resonating metallic sound.  
  
The preparation was done. His body slightly relaxed as he realized this, then stiffened when he thought of the final test, the actual look in the mirror. He looked over to it, and walked slowly but somewhat proudly towards it to see himself the way others would see him.   
  
He was in front of the glass within a few steps, and Fox slowly made a turn towards the mirror, his head slightly hung. He breathed deep and looked up, ready to see the final results. As his vision had fixed onto the fogged, featureless glass, his body froze, and a look of shock was imprinted on his face. The sight he saw wasn't what he recognized as himself, but someone he held very dearly...  
  
"Dad?!"  
  
He quickly spun around to look behind him on instinct, the cloak whipping around his body and engulfing him, wanting badly to see the figure he took for dead. He came to a sudden halt, eyes set to directly behind him........there was nothing there but the air and room behind him. His body relaxed slightly, but he still had the bewildered look set upon his face. Staring, Fox's mind raged on in confusion. It not only thought of the odd situation, but also of how his heart and lungs seemed to be working so much harder than normal, gradually decreasing their pressure on his body.   
  
He had to grab his wrist and grip it hard, just to make him resist reaching out into the thin air. Looking back to the mirror, he wiped off the condensation from the now extremely cold surface that wasn't at all far from feeling like a cut slab of ice. Examining the reflection, he still saw the same image. He looked deeper, his eyes straining to look so closely, then the first image blurred in his mind. He saw the same figure, but in a different way. It was in fact, himself.   
  
Memories came crashing upon him from that moment of realization, as if they were bullet trains that came straight for him. They weren't very personal memories, but simply those that had been locked away within his mind. They all had to do with him and his father, side by side. Either themselves or someone nearby noticed how similar they looked. It was true. He and his father may as well have been twins, one being the older version, the other being a younger. Quite often, they were able to confuse people inadvertently by dressing the same style. Even when they were at formal Academy ceremonies, their uniforms looked about the same with the exception of a few medals, just about being mirror images...Their own trait of similarity had just fooled Fox.  
  
His features froze as they were, showing both shock, and sadness, from the way his lower lip had the slightest quiver, to the wideness of his eyes. He could barely stand, and supported himself by leaning on a desk as the small yet profound thoughts ran through smoothly like flowing water...thoughts of how he was so easily fooled by simple images connected to his father…desperation had taken hold breifly.  
  
*Dad...he...he's never coming back...he's...........gone...forever...*  
  
The words passed through his mind rather quickly, but the effect stayed...his eyes, against his own will, let a few tears escape. Fox quickly rubbed them away, not willing to show any sign of weakness, even in private. The tears were gone, but the feeling deep within his chest remained. It felt as if a cold, evil hand stabbed its fingers right into him before punching through to bring it whole being in, grabbing all his innards into a unimaginably tight grip, cruelly twisting them about slowly while pressing hard into the mess, before tearing it all away nerve by nerve, leaving the dreaded wound open to bring in even more pain and suffering.   
  
The cold came again. Fox wrapped his arms around him, trying with no avail to ward it off. It didn't stop. He began hearing hushed voices murmuring away...  
  
*No....I can't be hallucinating...how could it be possible?!*  
  
Painfully drawing his arm away from his body, more chills came to him as he reached out to the source of it all, the window. He half collapsed, catching himself with the desk. He grunted in pain as he started to collapse even further, trying to struggle to stay up. His arms felt like pistons, pushing with all their might against great force. Fox grunted as he made the last push, and was able to look outside…  
  
The voices weren't hallucinations indeed…they were people, all dressed in black. They were all the other cadets, ranging from first years to the seniors. They all were in ceremonial dress, appearing to mutter quiet words to one another. They were all heading to the parade ground…Fox's eyes widened at a thought…  
  
"SHIT!" Fox shouted as he brought his fist down on the desk in a sudden burst of energy. The energy was produced by the thought, and the burst left him half laying on the desk, grunting in frustration.  
  
He remembered the eulogy he was supposed to have for his ceremony. A eulogy that was still nonexistent. The ceremony would start in a matter of minutes…and he had nothing to show…not one word.  
  
Fox's fist clenched even tighter out of anger at himself. If he could, he would've punched himself…he shook his head knowing that would not help his situation, having to stand in front of people and speak of his father.   
  
Thinking of the people, he pushed himself up to the window once more. Looking outside…he could only determine that the entire Academy and then some were out there…  
  
Eyes widening, he backed off. It may as well have been a slap. He backed towards the bed, and slowly, he sat down, his body causing the mattress to flatten as he sunk low.   
  
Fox's head drooped low as he stared down at the gray carpet, a sea of fabric strands that he didn't take his eyes from once. The vision became blurred as his eyes watered, and quiet sobs emanated from his throat while he muttered to himself in a croaked voice…  
  
"I can't do it…dear god I can't do it…please…don't make me…I can't…too much…don't make me, I can't go any further."  
  
He muttered on and on, almost trance like, as if someone could actually hear him…no one ever did. The carpet in front of him was now dotted in his tears, the corner of his room amplifying his whimpers the slightest bit, causing him discomfort whenever the sounds reached his ears.   
  
Outside, the crowd and their sounds increased, blending together in such a way that they were inaudible to Fox, up until his cries became quiet with exhaustion, and the murmured words could be heard clearly through the clouded glass.   
  
He swallowed hard, wiping his tear stained face clean again, as he tried to regain his composure to a solid, calm state of being. No longer did his face have sorrow cast upon it, but it was reformed with a mountain like look of calm and steadiness. He saw this as his eyes caught the foggy mirror again, and he made his face freeze into place, making the surface almost as cold as the bitter weather outside his walls.  
  
It was all contained tightly…the fragile being could move on now to face what he had to face. The cold still thrashed at him…wise for now…but for the future…  
  
TO BE CONTINUED. Chapter 5 on the way. 


	6. Chapter 5: Wall

*NOTE 7/29/03: Due to my wholehearted agreement in having overdone a certain area of this chapter, there has been a change in this public version. Please accept this change, and an apology for my edginess.   
  
How I drape my face with my bare hands/The same that brought me here/But you were beyond all help/The folded message that wept my name  
  
-Opeth, Earth  
  
Chapter 5: Wall  
  
'My father…he was a great man. I don't know too much of his past, I just know many praise him as a hero, many as a good friend, many as just a great guy. I called him dad…I don't know where I would've been without him, and what could've been different about me as a person. It is…a bit overwhelming, seeing how so much is being said over him, I must've not known a part of his fame. Either way, while I may have lost him in this world, well…there's lingering memories, at least…I can't sum everything up any better, this, is all I can really say…'  
  
The speech seemed to gain neither praise nor criticism…everyone remained silent and solemn as he left the podium, his words no more than a couple minutes, mostly about memories. Straightforward, nothing special, the only thing held back the dark plains within.   
  
Hardly anyone even spoke to him afterwards…his friends said he did well, Bill particularly. Everyone else just muttered quiet condolences, some admiring how well he's been coping…not much was said that day.   
  
A reception was being held inside one of the gathering buildings. There were muttered conversations everywhere as people stood in small congregations of no more than 7, usually, all as they nibbled and sipped at the meager refreshments. The atmosphere wasn't cheery at all, and was quite depressing. If one were to step in without knowing what the occasion was, they'd still know to have silent respect…  
  
'Poor guy...' 'His father was a bit of a war hero way back then, wasn't he?' 'He doesn't have much left…he has no family now.' 'How could he stand his ground so well…I might've ended up crying right there.' Words to that effect was what made up the whispers of all present. Fox hardly picked up anything…he was zoning everything out except for where he sat, in a chair in the corner where he was sitting, not a thought on his mind…  
  
No one talked to him ever since people made their way here from the parade grounds…most had the impression he should be left alone to his thoughts. Thoughts that were unknowingly dark…the facts still echoed through his head, just as the tiniest sound would be greatly resonated in a cave…his knuckles were going ivory white, his palms stinging like fire as his nails kept digging deeper to the bone…  
  
A quiet scuffing of carpet had come into his mind, and later the image of black leather boots. Their owner was General Pepper, dressed in ceremonial uniform and carrying an attaché case.   
  
"Mr. McCloud…?"  
  
Fox was silent. Pepper was yet another person who had caught him being in the real world physically, and an entirely different one mentally. Pepper didn't say anything. He just took a seat in another nearby chair.   
  
"Fox?"  
  
Fox looked up this time, not very promptly, but it was a response of attention nonetheless. There was a somewhat morbid look to Pepper's face from what Fox could see…that stuck with his mind until Pepper flipped the brass clasps on the leather case, quietly pulling out it's contents…  
  
Pepper passed the items to Fox as if no one else were to see them…they were a Cornerian Flag encased in mahogany wood, and a lidded black velvet box. The flag was just tradition at work, although Fox had no idea what was in the box. He stroked the surface of the box, going over the smooth cloth…  
  
"It's a Purple Heart…" Pepper muttered quietly. "He died doing a task for us…he deserves it and then some."  
  
Fox didn't respond. Instead he opened the case, seeing the fairly distinct medal of the Purple Heart, purple with gold accents. It was nothing new to him…he closed it silently. His mouth opened, but he was mouthing his first words a bit…he couldn't find his voice at the moment.  
  
"W-…why are you giving it to me now and not up at the ceremony?"  
  
Pepper sighed quietly.  
  
"I thought it was bad enough I had you in front of the entire blasted Academy on nearly no notice. I didn't want to make things any harder on you."  
  
Pepper closed the case, having decided to let Fox be…his aging body got itself up and he went just as silently as he came…he stopped in his tracks.  
  
"Fox…if I recall correctly…your father did great things even before he was a pilot but just a grunt…he was a real good soldier…a damn good one…Might even get a medal of honor later on after the whole conflict with Venom is no more than a bad memory…"  
  
He started his walk again and that was that. Fox glanced his way, then went back to the items he had on his lap…he felt the mahogany case and how cold it was…just as cold as ice and just as smooth…his mind became lost once more in blurred out murmurs and mindless thoughts…  
  
The awards were indeed not meant for his father's self-proclaimed "I love me" wall back at the house. He didn't know where to put them for now. They would have a temporary place at his dormitory he supposed…  
  
Fox sighed deeply. There was no real direction for him to go now. He didn't know what would have to be changed, what would have to be done, what he had to do differently in his life…the list went on. The future would be unclear for a while now…  
  
'…I'm done here. I have no need to stay…'  
  
He quietly pushed the chair aside and gathered up the awards in his arm. Moving silently through the crowds, he didn't touch anyone, nor did he speak any words. Fox made himself invisible to the world, and gave off the aura of coldly shutting everyone out. Only a select few eyes ever saw him pull his cloak close to him as he pushed the cold door aside to leave…  
  
"…Bill, you've known him a hell of a lot longer than I have, you think he's gonna be ok?"   
  
"I don't know Falco…he doesn't have any more big things like this so…I can't say. Maybe, maybe not."  
  
Slippy couldn't say anything about it. Nor could Bill or Falco after that. All they could do was helplessly watch Fox walk away from everyone into the snowy drifts and disappear among the gathering fog…  
  
*****  
  
The cold stopped biting into his fur as he stepped into the foyer of the dormitory block. The howl of the wind could be heard through the crack where the doors were separated, sounding ominous and hollow. His body felt numb, not from cold but exhaustion.   
  
Fox stumbled towards the elevator, his heavy footfalls echoing throughout the hallways. Not one creature stirred within the building. Everyone was still attending the ceremonies. He was seemingly the only one to have left early…  
  
The lifeless steel doors opened for him, and he almost fell in. They hissed shut just as lifelessly as they had opening. Fox's back was to the wall, his weight dragging him down the frictionless imitation wood. It was only then that he realized his breathing came in gasps, and his chest was bulging with every one, accompanying the steady thumps of his heart.   
  
Taking off his hat, Fox wiped his brow. It felt cold and damp. Looking down at his gloved hand, it shimmered…at least it seemed so. In his blurring vision, it became hard to tell anything apart. His head fell back and hit the wall.  
  
'I didn't push myself…why am I tired then?'  
  
His head throbbed with numbness just then. The lack of sleep caught up to him, becoming more apparent when the normally clear ding of the elevator echoed in his ears instead. The doors opened and light came into the elevator. Reluctantly, he stumbled out into the hallway, surprised he was able to remember where his dorm was in relation to the elevator.   
  
A fumbling hand found the keypad and pressed weakly at the keys. The door slid open with an ominous hiss. Fox's vision was blurring. He had just enough to get inside and find the vacuum case for his uniform…  
  
*****  
  
The case was shut with silent hissing, a challenge sealed away in the annals of time. It was set away in Fox's closet, resting in the same spot where its shape was made out in the dust that graced the closet floor. He shut the closet and his body backed away. He fell back into the stiff mattress of his bed, the force causing it to spring up and down. Fox didn't care, even the cheap military grade mattress was relief. He didn't even notice the cold air that passed easily through the blue jeans and white T-shirt he was wearing. He was too tired to even think about caring. Numbness had spread over his form very quickly, disabling him.   
  
The time was cast upon the red numbers of the bedside clock as 11:04 in the morning. Lunch was due in another hour. Hunger didn't strike him, even though he almost hadn't eaten a single thing all day long. No thoughts, in fact, came across him at the moment. His mind was a dense sea of fog with no movement within. Long did his blue-green eyes stare at the dull gray ceiling.  
  
Fox's desire to rest came about in a matter of minutes. Heavy eyelids closed over his blank stare, and he was cast off into the first good sleep he had in over a day…  
  
*****  
  
People in white coats were milling about the hallways of the same, dull shade. Some were accompanying people in greenish, pajama like clothing, people who looked miserable or at least looked like they had better days than this. Every now and then, a white coat would pass by pushing along one of the green clad people either knocked out and on a bed, or awake in a wheel chair.  
  
Conversations as he moved through the hallways ranged from cheerful and happy to serious and grave. A pair of feline women who seemed to tower over him were laughing about something they just talked about. A hawk only a few feet further gazed at his clipboard, shaking his head solemnly as he flipped over the many sheets of paper.   
  
His hand was being held tightly by a fox in sunglasses. The eyes were hidden, yet at the same time it was apparent upon his face something was wrong. As they went further down the hall the grip seemed to tighten, and cold sweat formed.   
  
"Daddy, where are we going?" the young kit asked innocently, unaware of everything.  
  
"…We're going down to your Mommy's room. I didn't know it'd be this far down here."  
  
"Is Mommy feeling better yet?"  
  
"…I don't know Fox. I really don't…"  
  
The older fox's pace had slowed down. The kit couldn't see what his father was looking at. He couldn't see anything above his father's waist. He didn't know anything about what was going on except his mommy had gotten sick and had to go here to get better.   
  
The kit had no idea why his father had been so quiet lately, hardly saying a word at home. His mother was sick…that was all he knew from the few words his father did speak.  
  
The older fox stopped walking, breathing becoming audible, a pulse felt in his hand. His hand squeezed tightly on his son's, hardly gripping from the sweat. The kit squirmed.  
  
"Daddy, you're squeezing me…"  
  
"Oh, sorry son…we're here."  
  
The grip was eased, and the kit looked around his father's still leg into the room they had stopped in front of. Inside there was a strange looking bed with odd machines nearby, one constantly but slowly beeping…  
  
"Go ahead Fox, I think Mommy would like to see you…"  
  
The grip was released, and the kit walked in curiously…never having seen these strange machines before. His father followed closely behind…both of them walked in slowly. The kit could hear shallow breathing from the blocky and cumbersome bed.  
  
'Why did they put Mommy in here? And where is she?'  
  
The kit nervously walked up to the bedside, seeming much higher than he did. His small hands gripped onto the sides and he lifted himself up, standing on tiptoes. He could see a person on the bed as he tried to peer over the edge…it was his mother.  
  
"Mommy?"  
  
The red vixen that lay on the bed stirred. Groaning, her eyelids opened to reveal tired looking bright green eyes. They turned towards the kit who looked on curiously.  
  
"…Fox?"  
  
"Mommy!"  
  
His face was bright and cheerful, and the vixen smiled a tired smile, seeing her son was in good spirits and so innocent of what was going on…  
  
"Fox, I'm so glad to see you…I guess your father didn't burn down the house yet trying to cook."  
  
"I heard that Vicky."  
  
The older fox walked in, a small smile on his face…a hint of graveness was still upon his face that displayed fairly mixed emotions.  
  
"James, you know you can't cook anything besides meat if your life depended on it. I was worried this whole time about how the stove would look when I got back home," she said with a sarcastic tone.   
  
"That's why they invented the microwave oven."  
  
The vixen laughed weakly, obviously amused, shortly afterwards hacking loudly. She smiled anyway.   
  
"You rouges always find your ways…" she saw her son, looking up curiously still. "James, give Fox a boost, I can't remember the last time I gave him a hug."  
  
The kit was lifted up quite suddenly and placed on the edge of the bed. The vixen reached out to him and he reached back. He nuzzled into her clean, shoulder length red hair next to her face…it felt cold, yet still warm at the same time…the vixen held onto him for awhile before releasing him.  
  
"Are you feeling better mommy?"  
  
"…Yes, I think so Fox. The doctors seem to think so…how about you?"  
  
"Good mommy. I got out of school 2 days ago for Christmas, and I made a big snow fort in the backyard when I got home!"  
  
"Good for you Fox…good for you." She grinned tiredly.   
  
The vixen turned her head slowly towards the older fox…she looked for awhile at his face before finding her words.  
  
"James, how about you take off those silly glasses of yours and come a bit closer, stop hiding in that doorway."  
  
The older fox stood still for a few moments. Gradually his hand moved up to the dark sunglasses that hid his eyes, slipping them off and revealing his bluish eyes. His gaze didn't avert from the vixen as he slipped the glasses into his jacket's breast pocket.  
  
"Is that better?" he asked.  
  
"Yes, I wanted to see why I married you."  
  
"I guess that's meant to be a compliment."  
  
The vixen couldn't help but laugh loudly. Her coughing was a bit more severe as she stopped laughing. Still chuckling, she tried to keep a straight face. She didn't want her husband to come here to be a jester.  
  
"So…everything has been going well for you two?"  
  
"Yeah…yeah, everything's being kept together. Fox does his part of the work and goes to school, and I can take care of the house just fine…not too different except you're not there…"  
  
She nodded slowly, understanding the older fox's words. Silence passed and the kit was wondering what they were thinking. He wasn't used to this much silence at one time. Trying to figure out what adults had in mind was something that always had him stumped…  
  
"So, is the hospital food ok?"  
  
"Now I know why you hated hospitals."  
  
They chuckled. Silence passed again, one another gazing at the other and looking away…it seemed as if they were distant strangers.   
  
"James…" the vixen spoke softly, trying to get his attention.  
  
"Yes Vicky?"  
  
Silence again. The kit became even more confused.  
  
"…I don't know if I'll ever get to say some things to you later…I just might forget, but…I want to let you know you've been the best to me, and to Fox."  
  
No response came from the older fox. He just looked silently, having nothing to say. The vixen knew that he heard her, so she took a labored breath to continue…  
  
"And…I've always admired you in some ways James…the way you can just pull a solution for problems off the top of your head, how you can keep everything together in the family."  
  
"Honey…it's…it's nothing."  
  
"I know…I just wanted to be sure you knew how I felt."  
  
The two were silent once more, and by then the kit stopped trying to figure out what was going on…everything seemed a bit odd to him. No one had spoken. His mother was looking off into space and his father was shifting uncomfortably where he was standing.   
  
"Could you two come a bit closer…my voice is getting hoarse," the vixen muttered in a weakened voice.  
  
The older fox trudged a little closer and took a knee next to her bed. The kit scooted over. They both had on their minds how she looked, weakened, mind going out. It just seemed that she was more tired now than any other time they saw her…  
  
"You two…I want you to know that I love you both very much…nothing else matters."  
  
"Vicky…"the older Fox had almost whispered, his voice becoming oddly quiet.   
  
"Mommy, you tell me that every-,"  
  
The vixen cut off her son. She barely lifted her hand, signaling she hadn't finished.   
  
"Fox…this is important to mommy now…Please, listen…"  
  
"…Yes mommy."  
  
"…You two are my favorite guys. I wish there were more I could do to…"  
  
She was silent. A small smile caught on her face, and flecks of shining tears trailed down her cheeks.  
  
"Mommy, are you crying?" the kit asked curiously.  
  
"Vicky, what's the matter?"  
  
"Nothing…just…"  
  
She reached up and took the two foxes around the neck and held on to them tightly. The two were frozen, not knowing what was going through her mind…they just hugged her back. It was a long time before she let loose her grip on them when she was beginning to fall back into her bed. Before she did, she gave them both a loving kiss…  
  
The vixen was flat on her back in the hospital bed, breathing becoming more labored, eyelids half shut…The two foxes were both confused, having not the slightest clue what was with the tiredness and the sudden emotion…  
  
"Vicky…are you-,"  
  
"I'm fine James…I just wanted to let you two know…just in case…"  
  
"Mommy, what's wrong…?"  
  
The vixen didn't answer. She struggled to turn her head towards their voices, keeping a look of well being on her face…  
  
"Fox…keep this in your heart, always…your mommy loves you very, very much, and she always will, forever…And James…you're my one and only…you always…will be…I love you…"  
  
The older fox stared at her as if what he heard was the oddest thing in the world…his words stuttered.  
  
"Vicky, we know that and we-…Vicky, why are you saying all this?"  
  
The vixen had not heard what he said…she was still speaking her mind, her body and mind hanging in with the real world and not falling to the weariness of what was overtaking her. Her half closed eyes were almost shut, and the green of her eyes barely shown among held back tears. She began to give a faint smile after a long pause.  
  
"…You take care of yourselves…my two rogues…"she spoke with a calm, more pleasant smile…a fairly mysterious one…  
  
"…V-Vicky, we're still here, it's not as if we're lea-,"  
  
Her eyes shut, and her breathing had slowed to nothing quite suddenly…a high pitch screech came out of one of the machines. A flat line was on the display…  
  
The older fox saw this and his eyes widened, jaw beginning to hang loosely…it was seconds before a muscle on his body even flexed.  
  
"Oh my god…oh my god! DOCTOR!"  
  
The kit eyes were wide at what was happening…his mother stopped talking and moving and now his father was screaming for a doctor. A Siamese man in a white coat came in very shortly after his father cried out, apparently having been at the ward monitor station just down the hall…  
  
"Damn, I was hoping it was just an error in the system!" the doctor shouted as he dropped his clipboard to the tile floor with a loud clatter, and started pressing down on his mother's chest repeatedly. His eyebrows furrowed in frustration. "NURSE!"  
  
A passing wolf woman dressed in green scrubs walked into the room at the doctor's call. "What's wrong Ken?"  
  
"We got a flat liner Sal! I don't care where you find it or who grabs it but we need a defibrillator right now!"  
  
The nurse nodded and quickly ran out of the room, her footfalls echoing throughout the hallways. The kit couldn't understand what all the screaming was for and why they were doing it just because his mommy was tired…  
  
"Come on Vicky, come on, fight it…" his father was desperately whispering to her…  
  
The nurse was soon back with a bulky box pushed on wheels with two paddles attached to it. The doctor flipped a switch and it made a strange whirring sound.  
  
"Fox, let's give the doctor some room and get out," the older fox muttered tensely to the kit, picking him up from the bed by the armpits and setting him down.  
  
"But what about mom-,"  
  
"Mommy will be fine, but we have to let the doctors help her, so move."  
  
The fox pulled his son out of the room swiftly, and he reluctantly followed along, looking back to see the doctor rubbing the paddles together and set them down on his mother.  
  
"Clear!"  
  
As the kit left, he heard a thumping sound, not knowing where it was from…he and his father walked away from the room and stopped at the other side of the fairly wide hallway. His father took a knee and turned his son towards him…hands grabbing his shoulders with an iron grip…  
  
"Fox, I need you to listen to me, and I need you to listen very carefully, just like you did for mommy…"  
  
The kit nodded…his father had never acted this way before, the way his voice was so quiet and serious, and the way the hands on his shoulders kept trembling so much…something was terribly wrong with his mother, worse than he thought.  
  
"Daddy, does this have to do with mommy?"  
  
His father's mouth hung slightly, then he took a quiet breath.  
  
"Fox…Mommy…she's very sick. The doctors don't have a very good idea about how to take care of her, but they are trying their best…"  
  
"Does Mommy have a bad cold or something?"   
  
It was a fairly innocent question at the time…his father was silent for minutes, not saying a word, but still holding onto his son who's face was set in confusion and curiosity.   
  
"Fox…I can't say right off the top of my head…it's just very, very bad…"  
  
The kit didn't understand what his father was saying…he didn't know what could be so bad that so many people would panic…just what could make so many people rush and scream…or make his father scared like this. He didn't say anything, but his father did…  
  
"Fox…I need you to be strong…be a big boy and be good right now, do you understand?"  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because…because we just don't know just how bad this can be…Just do it, please."  
  
The kit did not understand his father's request…he just looked at him and nodded his head slowly. His father smiled.  
  
"Atta boy…"  
  
The fox loosened his grip on his son's shoulders and he grabbed his hand instead, standing back up to his full height and looking behind him towards the room. In a cycle, exhausted orders were still being shouted out, and a constant whirring sound was heard, and shortly afterward the sound of something making a thump.  
  
The kit looked up at his father's face that was cast with a look of weariness and panic…a wince crossed every time the thump sounded out. It was made more apparent by how at the same time, his hand was squeezed tightly with each one.   
  
'What's wrong with Mommy? Why are the doctors in such a big fuss?' were the thoughts running through the kit's mind as he stared at the doorway, unaware of what was going on inside. The high pitched shrill was still singing continuously, only interrupted by the thumping, and the strange sounds kept playing over it….  
  
What were minutes seemed like hours…it was after those minutes that the strange sounds stopped, and the whirring of the machine on wheels was no longer heard. All that was left what the shrilling sound…it was soon abruptly silenced. His hand was squeezed tightly once more, this time making his hand go somewhat numb. The kit's father hardly blinked…  
  
Nothing happened for a long time…the doctor and the nurse soon came out, the nurse idly following and the doctor speaking into a small black box in a barely audible voice… not much was heard.  
  
"4:27 PM…December 18th…2510…"  
  
The doctor was trudging down the hallway the other direction of the fox and the kit, muttering some words under his breath, tail hanging limply behind him. The nurse was walking towards the older fox, still looking over her shoulder towards the doctor briefly before she got closer. The fox looked up to her anxiously.  
  
"My wife…is she…"  
  
The nurse looked away from the fox shortly then looked back, halfway biting her lower lip. She sighed and shook her head, tail hanging just as limply as the doctors.  
  
"I'm sorry Mr. McCloud…Dr. Park tried his best, but…it had her."  
  
The kit looked up at his father…he was wide eyed and his jaw hung somewhat limply. The nurse had a sad look on her face when she glanced down at the kit, the way her lips were cast on her muzzle and how her eyes were darkened…she was soon attending to the fox.  
  
"…Dr. Park will see you when he's finished filing the report...I'm so sorry."  
  
"…Thank you miss."  
  
The nurse slowly walked off, having more duties to perform, leaving the stunned father and his confused son…the grip the fox held on his son was loosened, and his hands dropped to hang limply at his sides.  
  
The kit looked up at his father, seeing his shoulders quake suddenly…he grabbed his father's hand and tugged on it gently.  
  
"Daddy…daddy, what's going on?"  
  
The fox turned to his son…he stared at him for the longest time as if in a daze, eyes hardly moving nor blinking, and looking at nothing but his son, mind lost in some sort of deep thought and struggling with itself…  
  
"Daddy…?"  
  
The father took a breath and took a knee in front of his son, still looking with somewhat of a daze before he found his voice and could open his mouth…  
  
"…Fox…my son…I really need you to listen to me right now, this is serious. This…thing, that happened to Mommy…it's not a very simple matter anymore…"  
  
"Daddy, please, tell me what happened!" the kit burst out, now having to plead with his father in a high voice.   
  
The fox was looking long and hard at his son, eyes giving off a strange look the kit had never seen before, wide eyed, yet tired…looking like he had seen a ghost. His face was pale and his jaw hung slack as he searched for words.  
  
"…Fox…your Mommy…something happened to her heart…it got infected, and…Fox, Mommy…Mommy is…"  
  
He paused. He quickly pressed his face into his hand, hiding his face from his son…The kit looked at him, wondering what he was doing…he heard quiet gasps and what sounded like his father was choking on his breath as his body was racked with shaking. It almost sounded like…sobbing.  
  
"Daddy, are you crying?"  
  
The shaking of the fox's body stopped, as did the gasping…he looked up out of his hand that was hiding his face just enough for his son to see him. Tears had streamed down his cheeks and were already soaking into his fur. His face held a look the kit couldn't even begin to comprehend, the way his mouth hung halfway open and his eyes had such a dark light to them, as if his spirit left him…  
  
"…Yes, Fox…I am," his father managed to choke out…  
  
The kit's eyes became wide.  
  
"Why Daddy?" was what he managed to say in his progressively quieter voice…  
  
A long silence…the fox was barely looking over the hand that covered up his face.   
  
"Fox…Mommy…Mommy is…"  
  
His choked voice turned into a quiet sob again. Trying to contain it only made him sound more choked, and his covered face was turned away from the kit. The kit now kept looking at his father, waiting…he noticed this…  
  
The sobbing became hard enough where the word he spoke was choked out quietly and dragged out, rather than spoken, and was very high pitched…it was barely formed among the tears. His hand was pressing against his eyes hard to keep them in, and even then he hardly faced his son as he sobbed out the last of the sentence…  
  
  
  
"…Dead."  
  
The kits ears were deafened to the world around him as he heard it. The word echoed throughout the annals of the kit's mind…he knew what the word meant... His skin went cold, a chill went a number of times up and down his spine, ricocheting violently…  
  
The kit had learned the meaning of this word a few weeks before…he heard the word a few times over the television. His father told him what it meant…the ceasing of a life…forever.  
  
His face was soon like his father's…hot tears formed in the corner of his eyes and dribbled down his cheek, dripping off the tips of his fur. He began to quietly cry…  
  
"Mommy's…dead?"  
  
The father removed his hand from his face, showing the tear-stained fur. His saddened eyes looked deeply into his son's.  
  
"…Yes, Fox…I'm afraid so…"  
  
The kit's lower lip trembled, and his chest had a sinking feeling…his stunned eyes could only look at his father. He cried harder, failing in an attempt to suppress it. His throat hurt from holding in the cries, and his eyes wouldn't stop…  
  
His father suddenly wrapped his arms around his small body and held him tightly, holding the kit's head against his shoulder, stroking his hair. The father's body shook hard. The kit felt it as his face was pressed into the warm shoulder, now soaking up his tears. He didn't know his father was crying just as hard as he was.   
  
"Don't hold it in Fox…I know it hurts so badly. Just…let it all out. Cry, Fox…go ahead and cry as hard as you want…" the older fox had sobbed out in high pitched, almost indistinguishable words.   
  
The kit did just as he said…he cried harder into his shoulder, his voice now a weak whimper. The hug provided little comfort…but it was the only thing the two could do now. Hold on to each other as tight as they could…  
  
From a distance, the nurse was watching at her station…her heart sank as a single tear trickled down that she casually wiped away. She had seen many people die during her few years in the business, and many couples broken apart…but she had never seen a little boy lose his mother right in front of his eyes and hardly even realize it until it was bluntly told to him…  
  
An aging hare walked up to her desk, knocking her out of deep thought. He looked like he was a pilot.  
  
"Excuse me, miss, I'm looking for Mrs. Vicky McCloud's room, could you tell me where it is?"  
  
"…I'm sorry sir, she just passed away a few minutes ago…"  
  
The hare had the same expression the husband had when she told him that very moment.  
  
"Oh my god…where's her husband and son?"  
  
The nurse pointed in the direction of the father and son, still in each other's arms, crying…  
  
"They're over there sir…but I think it's best they're left alone…"  
  
"…I'll be back later…"  
  
The two foxes were indeed left alone…not a soul came near them or spoke a word as they stayed in the hallway, mourning, a kit crying in his father's arm, and the father trying to be strong as he attempted to comfort…  
  
  
  
*****  
  
He gasped loudly, thrashing his limbs as he suddenly awoke. This made him lose his balance and fall. He hit a surface that was rock hard, yet had a strangely soft quality to it. His groaning was weak as he slowly opened his eyes. His back was aching from the fall as he lay spread out on the floor.  
  
Fox wiped cold sweat off of his forehead. He could see now. Wrapped around him in bunches were his blankets, twisting around and embracing him as they trailed off of his bed that was now on his right side. He was flat on his back and in pain, cushioned by no more than thin, cold carpet. The room was darkened, but still illuminated by a mixture of pinkish sun rays and the blue streams of the pathway lights outside that poured in through the blinds…  
  
Reaching over to his left side and turning his head to the same direction with a groan, he pressed a button on his watch. It read Saturday, 9:27 PM in the greenish light that managed to fill the room. He began rubbing his head as he sat up, trying to ease the pain from when his head hit the floor.   
  
'Did I actually sleep that long? Ten and a half hours…?'  
  
He figured he did…he hadn't slept well for days. That didn't bug him so much as the images his mind saw as he slept. He groaned and rubbed his head as he tried to think.  
  
'I knew those places and sounds from somewhere…but what…was it when…Mom died? Was that the dying woman I saw?'  
  
  
  
Fox sighed. His head hurt too much for him to do anymore thinking. It wasn't worth waking up either because everything was for the most part shut down at the Academy with the exception of the lights and heating systems. Hunger didn't strike him either.   
  
He lay there on the carpet wrapped in his blankets, not moving. Even though he was cold, he didn't even try to pull up the blankets. Fox lay just the same as when he fell out of his bed, covered in the lights of the disappearing sun and the dominant light of the pathway lights. His head was sideways, and he was looking off towards the other side of his room as he tried to regain sleep.  
  
The entire night, he never did regain a state of sleep…the images kept the wheels of his mind turning…one may have thought him for dead if they were to see him now. He lay still and wide eyed…long past the moon's peak.   
  
*****  
  
The broad, hollow sound of metal striking metal echoed quietly in the morning light. Orange beams flowed between the cracks, shining onto a nearby wall of gray. A still form lay still wrapped on the floor…  
  
Fox was staring into the unseen depths…somewhere beyond the walls of his dorm. His body hadn't moved at all since he had fallen out of bed the night before…blankets still embracing him messily as he lay in a heap. His blank eyes didn't even blink as dust floated around him…  
  
Bells from the Chapel were sounding, calling any cadet who wanted to come to early morning services. He normally attended every Sunday…his father raised him to believe, even when times seemed to be at the hardest. Faith was a driving force for many, he was once told. He was taught to never deny the power of faith…  
  
He didn't even care then. He didn't even feel discomfort from being awake all night on the floor, not having eaten anything since the morning before. Nothing mattered at the moment.   
  
The light drove on further into his room, coming to Fox's eyes. He groaned, pulling the thin blanket over his face, the first movement he'd made in hours…the light was too bright for him. He wanted to remain in the darkness.   
  
The alarm on his nightstand blared loudly in rhythm, it's harsh bellowing noise making his ears twinge. He pulled the blanket tighter over his head, trying to block it out. It still rattled his head. He wanted to make it stop…  
  
'Fuck it…it'll handle itself eventually…'  
  
It still blared for minutes, the harsh buzzing growing irritating. His hand shot up, pulling it down to the floor and pulling the plug out, landing with a loud clunk. Fox's hand rested on it briefly, dragged down by gravity along the smooth plastic curves. The clock was resting on the floor, it's blank face staring at Fox, as if mimicking him. His down face stared back at him in the reflection  
  
He frowned, pushing it away. He didn't want to see himself.   
  
The bells stopped ringing, not a sound reaching Fox's ears now. His bones still rattled with the sounds…sleep seemed attractive at the moment. Didn't even want breakfast…he didn't even bother reaching for the pillow that was right above him. He didn't care anymore…he just dozed away.  
  
*****  
  
His breath caught as his eyes shot open, an artificial, ever-changing tone reaching his ears that went up and down in pitch quickly and consistently before cutting off…his muscles barely relaxed before it sounded again, startling him. He was awaken from a dream…all he could remember was orange sky and barren lands…some objects were above him too.  
  
Fox let out his breath slowly, finding the tone familiar…his mind sought out hard to figure out what it was. It wasn't too long before it registered as the phone he kept on his desk. He sighed, covering his head. The droning tone agitated him.  
  
'It rung six times already, give it up…'  
  
There was a sudden click, then a beep.   
  
"Hey, you've reached Fox. I'm not around right now, so leave a message and I'll get back to you."   
  
A long and low electronic beep sounded. Fox suddenly remembered the answering machine.  
  
"Great…" He mumbled under his breath. He had to hear it now. He didn't want to bother with it either. Not a hair on his body moved as he lay as he was, wondering who in the hell would be calling now.  
  
"Fox? It's Bill…where the hell are you? Pick up if you're there…ugh, dude, no one's seen you since the reception yesterday. We haven't seen you for four meals now, or this morning at service…what's going on man? We're all wondering that…take care, and…yeah…see ya."  
  
Another beep, then the low hum of the machine stopped. A blinking red light radiated about the room. Fox groaned and pulled the blanket over his head.   
  
'Stop worrying about me god damn it…'  
  
He blocked everything…the light, the noise…all of it. He wanted for it all to just go away and leave him alone…  
  
*****  
  
Fox shifted as he sighed, still lying on the floor. He couldn't get to sleep. Easing the blanket off of his face, he stared blankly at the ceiling. The red light on the answering machine still blinked, filling the room with ambient light with each blink. Ignoring it was not easy.   
  
'…That's it.'  
  
Lazily, he threw the blanket that was wrapping around him off onto his bed. With some strain, he got up, not having moved a bit in over 20 hours. His muscles ached as he got up off the floor. It was harder than he thought.   
  
Getting up and rubbing sleep from his tired eyes, he got to the desk. Holding himself up on the chair, he hit the delete button on the machine. As he did so he stared at the machine for a few moments.   
  
'They're obviously gonna call again…along with God knows who else…'  
  
Sighing, Fox got on all fours and crawled under the desk. With great force he pulled out the line to the phone jack, and pulled the plug for the answering machine. He crawled out and leaned against the nearby wall, still trying to fully wake up.  
  
'Well then…that takes care of that…'  
  
Getting up from under the desk, he pulled out the chair that was there. He sat down and rested his head on the desk…  
  
Meeting him face to face were the encased flag and the medal box.  
  
"Son of a…"  
  
Everywhere he turned, he was somehow reminded of the harsh reality that just seemed to want to rub itself into Fox's face until he was driven past his limits of sanity. His face sunk as he continued to stare towards the flag and medal box.  
  
'…Maybe I need to clear my head…yeah…'  
  
Getting up with a grunt, he pushed himself away from his desk, hastily grabbing his bomber jacket from the closet and pulling on his sneakers…he went out the door with a slow trudge, still held down by sleep…  
  
*****  
  
A thin layer of snow still lay on the Academy grounds. It was certainly cold enough to stay too. A thin coating highlighted the statues, and fountains that once flowed freely were now bone dry. Fox's sneakers barely held good traction on the somewhat icy pathways, but it was good enough.   
  
By now he was pretty well awaken. The cold air had helped a great deal. Within a few yards was his destination, the Chapel…  
  
Walking up the broad marble steps proved to be some challenge because it was still slick with ice…he was however, still able to make it to the enormous wooden doors. They were always open to anyone, at anytime of any day. A popular way to relieve stress and boost morale among the cadets was to pray and seek spiritual guidance…  
  
The doors opened with a loud creak, light seeping out as soon as Fox opened it a crack…He walked in, being bathed in sudden warmth, the heavy door shutting behind him. He was in the foyer. The heat was a little bit cranked up here so that people could be quickly warmed up before they entered.  
  
Another set of wooden doors…he was within the cavernous Chapel…one of the largest buildings in the whole campus, the main area able to compare with some of Corneria's more famous churches in size.   
  
Between the large pews that were on both sides was a red carpet…leading up to the main altar up front. At the altar was not only the place where Father York made his sermons every Sunday morning and every night, or where bread was broken in ceremony, but at the furthest wall was a huge cross…  
  
Fox walked forwards slowly…his footfalls echoed throughout the entire chapel loudly…He didn't even notice now the wonderful stained glasses or the vividly detailed stations of the cross on both sides.   
  
The footsteps stopped at the front of the altar, where Fox dropped to his knees and stared at the cross. His body hardly moved, and he didn't blink. His normally quiet breathing was now a roaring sound to his ears. His mind searched for a prayer, for relief from the God he had put all his faith and belief in, whom he believed would bring his father home safely…yet his father did not come back…  
  
Despite his faithfulness and his servitude…he was not answered. As he realized this, his mind stopped searching for a cry to his God.   
  
As he stared blankly, his mind questioned, and it came out in a low whisper…  
  
"...What am I supposed to do? Where do I go now Lord?...Please...give me some kind of a direction..."  
  
Silent gasps filled the halls, wet spots forming in the carpet at his knees.  
  
"I'm so lost now...show me the way, end it all, do anything...just make it stop..."  
  
Staying on his knees for a long moment, he finally darted to his feet, walking swiftly away from the altar, feeling a sort of indifferance, not knowing what his plea would bring...he personally wasn't a true church type, but...what was he to do?   
  
The door opened with a loud creak, the wind blowing in with a monotonous howl.  
  
  
  
He left for his dorm. 


	7. Chapter 6: Winding Down

Note: This chapter had taken longer than expected due to the return of school to my life. I apologize for this. Because of schoolwork, further chapters will also have a well-sized delay time. However, I am not willing to stop writing, and this will continue. Again, apologies, and may you enjoy this chapter.  
  
Elastic meadow, endless arms of sorrow/Lips try to form "because"/Trying to adapt to the wilderness,/Where even foes close their eyes and leave.  
  
-Opeth, Earth (Title Unknown to Author)  
  
Chapter 6: Winding Down  
  
The mid-afternoon sun peeked through the blinds of Fox's dorm as he idly lay back in a chair at the table. It was now officially winter vacation, the last period of the day having ended among many shouts proclaiming TGIF. His head hung slack behind him, eyes staring tiredly. The warmth of the yellow rays provided little comfort to Fox. The week had come and gone for him, with little body to it, yet it left him tired. Misfortune had struck him many times throughout the week.  
Monday had a much more "pleasant" experience to it than it normally did. It was Fox's day for ground combat training with a group he was assigned with. Even though he wasn't going to be a grunt and was heading for a fly boy position, anyone in any branch of the Cornerian Military was required to undergo basic infantry combat training. Upper classes at the Academy also had the extra burden of using rubber tipped rounds weighted to about the same as a regular bullet, not using the IR system the plebes got to use.  
Fox wasn't about to forget what happened that day. The images rushed back to him. That day, they were using full combat armor as they usually did, and they were using a course they weren't accustomed to. It was a filled up warehouse designed for the near exclusive use of indoor combat training grounds. Most of the time, they were in simulator rooms or a field outside of the city. He still remembered walking in their after getting the usual briefing, safety rules, mission, and so forth. It was a simple kill the other team mission.  
Everything went normal throughout the exercise, squads were placed in different areas, and the mission was given the go. Lock and load, begin the hunt. Each team began differently strategically. Fox's decided to send out two teams of two to scout ahead. They picked numbers out for who wouldn't do it. He remembered he mumbled five when he was shaken to reality by a teammate. It wasn't even close to 34.  
He and another member left with another set of two guys, eventually splitting up, keeping an eye out for the enemy team while the main group lagged behind. Sometime after they started, there were shouts over the radio, mostly grunts of pain and the dull thumping of the hardened rubber bullets against battle armor, not deadly, but still very painful.  
Most of the main squad was gone, the remaining numbers dwindling. Fox's partner was pushing him along, constantly getting him out of his state of half dreaming, half living. Running away from the enemy was difficult, and Fox was getting panicky and on edge.  
They stopped to catch their breaths at one point, hiding behind some crates. The other soldier was still trying to get Fox awake as he began to hurriedly form a plan. Any form of security was shattered with a sudden yelp. Fox saw the soldier crumple right before him, paralyzed with pain.  
Fox ran, his pulse was racing and the confines of the suit didn't help, making him sweat a storm and induce a sense of claustrophobia. He was getting deeper into the crates, and it was much harder to see with the lack of light. Not thinking about where he was, he kept turning corners, not even checking his comlink for any signals, or even calling for help from the other scouts.  
It was around the next corner he ran into a pair of shadows. He screamed out of fright.  
The trigger came down hard from the tight, sudden pull it was given. The gun leaped as it ejected its rounds. Fox was frantically spraying the corridor, right up until his radio crackled loudly, a gruff voice coming out that was mixed with much pain.  
"Same team! Cease fire, cease fire! Stop!!!"  
  
Fox's finger abruptly came off of the trigger. He didn't realize until he stopped that he fired the whole clip off, judging from the clicking sound that was just now stopping. He glanced down at the two squirming forms, seeing the red markings on the shoulders, indicating their team. It was the other scouting team.  
"Goddammit McCloud, you're killing us here!"  
The stare Fox gave was wide and distant as he realized the terrible mistake he made. In his panic he manage to take down what was left of the team beside himself. His mouth tried to find words of apology, but his train of thought was yet again shattered by a strained voice.  
"Fox, behind you! FIRE!"  
Fox's head turned behind him, seeing three figures in blue markings. The adrenaline throbbing through his veins reached a peak as he swung his rifle around to the figures. He pulled the trigger.  
  
Clicking.  
  
His eyes widened as he was staring down the barrel of his empty gun, seeing that his enemies that just began to pull out of the tight space quickly shot back into combat stance and raised their rifles. Before a gasp even escaped, and before his foot could even budge, Fox felt a maelstrom of flying rubber pound against his chest in a stream of constant pain. The intervals between the bullets were nonexistent. The force of the bullets pushed him back, and he screamed from the shear volume of agony. He quickly found himself crumpled on the floor, eyes tearing up, his body curling up to try and dampen the last few glancing blows. He could hear a couple of clicks, and the unloading of hollow clips. They fired off all they had left into him. A reverberating voice soon found its way into Fox's throbbing head. "Cease fire, cease fire! The exercise is over, please report back to the briefing area." The blue team members that just took down Fox casually headed for the exit, the red members nearby just getting up and back into working order. They went over to where Fox lay, and despite their own discomfort got the crushed form to his feet. "Come on Fox, let's get the hell out of here." "We got it rough today, especially you. Three clips at point blank." Fox barely heard what the two said at the time. His head, as was the rest of his body, had splitting pain tearing away at him. All that he really remembered were bits and pieces of what happened as he was dragged along. His body was bruised for half the week. Normal classes didn't go so well either. He ended up phasing out in most of them. It even happened during Phys. Ed on Wednesday. He ended up fainting in the middle of the track shortly after starting a training run, the sun beating down on him as he found himself kissing the dirt. He was dragged off the course and taken to the Medical Building for the second time that week. Military history didn't even keep a grasp on him like it normally did. They were going through one of the greatest infantry battles ever fought, and he was staring off into the distance, not hearing a word of the decisive victory. . Flight tech class put him to sleep. He could still remember somehow landing his head on his console silently, dozing away unnoticed right up until Sgt. Stripeton asked him a question while bringing up a hologram schematic and making rough notations. It didn't come back with an answer. "Mr. McCloud? Do you not know how to restart your propulsion systems after a high altitude stall on low." Stripeton had turned around to see Fox dozing, unnoticed by even the students up until then. He walked quietly with a heavy stride, standing next to Fox and peering down his muzzle at him. "McCloud, are you there?" Fox still slept. It was then Stripeton took his stylus and gave a light but swift thwack on the back of Fox's neck. "Ow!" Fox shot up in his seat, rubbing the back of his neck as no one gave any particular notice, just going back to the schematics on their screen. Stripeton sighed. "Your propulsion system is stalled from overcharging, you're in the upper atmosphere, and your booster fuel is running too low to limp to lower altitudes with the correctional jets, how do you make it out? "Uh." The chime for the end of class sounded, causing everyone to leap to their feet and grab their books, saying goodbye to the dull and tedious technical aspects of flight engineering for a couple weeks. As the students rushed out the door, Fox was lagging behind, still gathering together the books that he was using as his sleeping surface. He was heading for the door, but not with thoughts of freedom and cheer. "Fox, can you stay for a minute?" Stripeton was still at his desk, not even beginning to pack his briefcase or shut off the projector. He pushed his glasses up his muzzle as he waited for Fox to give some kind of an answer. Fox could only mutter dully. ".Yes sir, what is it?" Stripeton sighed heavily, leaning on his desk, arms crossed as his face had the flustered looks lots of the teachers gave when they couldn't exactly place the right words when they lectured students. "Fox, normally, if a student falls asleep in my class every now and then, it doesn't bug me, it's understandable for that to happen."  
Stripeton paused. Fox didn't say nor do anything in response, so he continued.  
"But.I've had some time to chat with some your other teachers. Apparently, they've also noticed the same behavior you've shown today, sleeping or else not being.entirely there.  
"I don't want to go and give you some kind of lecture, but if what I'm thinking is true.well, it seems as if, maybe the events of the past couple weeks seem to be lingering on your mind and might be putting strain on you. Am I right.?"  
Fox stood silent, giving only a light shrug. Stripeton sighed as he whipped off his glasses, tossing them on the desk as he rubbed his eyes.  
"Look.I don't know what exactly is causing this change in you, and I certainly don't want to dig in. All I really want to say though.is that it would be good for you to sort out whatever it is while you're away. If this keeps up, it won't reflect too well when performance counts...understand?"  
".Yes sir."  
Stripeton nodded, feeling pleased, and sent Fox off with a casual dismissal wave.  
"Don't think about it too hard, Christmas only comes around once a year. Have a good one."  
Fox just trudged off from the classroom with slumped shoulders and a worn expression, footsteps weakly echoing in the lonely classroom.  
"You too sir."  
  
That was the majority of the week, dragging on through classes, people curious about the sudden change. Fox didn't have much care for it.he was done with classes for a few weeks. Vacation was here. Struggles were to be put off.  
As he lay on the cold floor he mentally went over what was to go on.he'd probably head back to the house, take care of getting things together there and doing all the legal work.hell, he hadn't even heard about wills or anything. Peppy actually left a message during the week that he wanted to help take care of the business on Saturday.  
There wasn't much else planned.there was nothing to do now. Fox had been in the dorm in the same spot since he got back from class an hour ago. He didn't want to go grab a bite, even though he barely even gets a small meal everyday, and he wanted to be alone.  
He stirred, and turned over onto his side, sighing, not being able to make up his mind on what to do now.as tired as he felt, his mind was still restless.he needed to do something, anything. There was still lingering rage fueling him that he needed to empty.  
'I haven't had a go at the punching bag for awhile.maybe.'  
Fox's hesitation soon disappeared. He had nothing better to do he figured.he got up to grab his training clothes.  
  
*****  
  
His footsteps echoed in the hallway, the only sound aside from his breathing. The physical training building was empty, as was probably every other student building. The Mess Hall was due to open up now, and most headed to dinner early.Fox decided not to join tonight. He had no interest in food.  
The door he turned into slid open, revealing the room where hand to hand combat was taught. The teacher that taught, First Lieutenant Chan, who also went by Master or Sensei, was a rarity. Not only was he one of the few white tigers on Corneria, he was also at one time a Champion Martial artist until he took a stint in the military, then moved on to teaching at the Academy. Many have considered him the best the Academy has had.  
Even he was not around right now, and this is where he was most of the time, reading books in the Asiatic languages about martial arts, drinking tea as he did so. Chan was probably at supper now with the rest of the staff. The various bags stood limply, waiting for their next barrage of learning hands, or channeled fury. There was a particular one in the corner that caught Fox's eye.A large black punching bag, about the size of a person, hung off a large chain from the ceiling. "The Rock", as the punching bag was affectionately named, was said to be 100 pounds, and hard as the side of a tank. It was just Master Chan and a select few students that used The Rock, and of course those who dared. Fox was one of the select few that used it regularly.he was one of the better combatants, learning quickly, knowing exactly what to do. Fox stared at his opponent, cracking his knuckles, breathing harder.the air in the room flowed constantly, and it embraced Fox's form as he stayed still for a few moments.he let out a loud scream and put forth a flurry of punches on the bag, grunting with each hit. The bag was soon swinging, on occasion ramming into Fox and knocking him back, the air forcibly knocked out of him.he was not slow to retaliate.  
  
*****  
  
Fox had doubled over, his breath now loud and taking in great amounts of air, his fur drenched to the point where he may as well have been submerged.his volleys came to a halt, his body thoroughly worn down, his knuckles burning in pain. A sudden hissing noise caused him to groggily turn around, seeing someone had come in.his face dropped when he saw the white face intercrossed with black on top of a gray instructor's uniform with gold lieutenant bars, and heard the voice of Master Chan. "Fox? What are you doing down here?" Lee Xian Chan was an intimidating figure at a glance, a good trait for an unarmed combat instructor, standing about six feet tall, his broad shoulders and chiseled form enough to make any delinquent shut up and do whatever he was told. Standing out in a crowd was no problem either.it was not common at all to see white tigers like himself from the Asiatic regions anywhere outside of that part of Corneria. He was also infamous among students for challenging those who didn't follow his program to a sparring match.those who underestimated him were quick to hit the floor. Fox had immediately shot up into a straight stand and bowed as he saw him, somewhat surprised at his appearance. "Oh, good evening sir.I was practicing.I'm wondering the same for you sir, aren't they still serving dinner at the mess?" Chan suddenly had a questioning look on his face, as if he had just heard the most blasphemous thing possible just come from Fox's mouth, like Corneria all of a sudden became flat. "Fox.dinner was hours ago, its 10:40 at night right now." "What? Couldn't be, I just came in here a little while." He looked up at the nearby clock on the wall.the display did in fact read 10:40 PM. Fox's stomach sunk down very hard, his eyes going wide at the same time. Cadets were supposed to be in their dorms by 9:30. "Oh no.I'm sorry sir, I must've lost track of-" Chan held up his hand, interrupting Fox, and seemingly had a smile on his face. "Ah, don't worry about it at all.besides." He walked up next to Fox, giving a light punch to "The Rock". The sound of his fist hitting the surface was very dull, and the bag looked squashed and soft. "It looks like you've softened up The Rock real well.we've had that bag for 8 years now, and it's just now begun to soften up. I just might have to take this and put a plaque next to it. "Fox McCloud was here-" As Chan stroked over the surface, he came across a damp area on the surface of the bag, where the deepest depression was.it had an odd and discolored glimmer to it that wasn't sweat. Pulling his hand back towards his face, he saw there was a reddish tint on his fingers. "Fox, is this ALL that you've been doing? No breaks?" ".Yes sir." "Let me see your hand." Fox hesitated at first, wondering why Chan had wanted to suddenly take a look at his hand.he held up his hand, now feeling burning in his knuckles. He winced as Chan went over his knuckles with his thumb, finding them to be bloodied up. "Good lord Fox, you've worn down your skin! Any longer and you would've cut through to the bone.you better stay a moment, let me bandage that up." "No.no, I'll be fine, I better get going for the night." As Fox had turned to walk away, he didn't go anymore than a step before his legs gave out under him, and soon found his body aching even more than it had before when he hit the floor hard. Chan had sighed in deep exasperation, pulling up Fox's shaking form and supporting him as he got him to walk slowly across the mat with much effort. Fox's balance at the moment was terrible, and he kept trying to break away to walk on his own, despite being at his weakest yet. "Don't push yourself so hard.stay a bit, rest." Fox groaned as he was pulled along towards Chan's office, feeling humiliated by the situation, and flustered that he was interrupted.there wasn't much he could do about it now though.  
  
*****  
  
The scent of green tea wafted through the air as Chan had used a heated water pump he "borrowed" from the kitchens to get some hot water into a pair of tea cups which now had pieces of freshly ground tea floating at the top. Chan had never been seen using tea bags except when he had forgotten to restock, and that was only about three times in years. The tea was always imported fresh from his hometown, still in the form of dried leaves. Chan ground it up himself daily.he went through the day's powder quickly, often using it up within hours. He set the tiny teacups next to the small bonsai tree he kept in his office. It was included among many decorations in the office, mostly certificates related to the military and martial arts, some medals and trophies lining makeshift shelves. The only photos he had were snapshots from his martial art tournament days, and from his old infantry unit, Company Echo "Black Dragons" of the Cornerian Asiatic Region Army Division, Battalion Four. There was also a number of scrolls in a different language that Fox couldn't make out made up of lines and curves... Must've been proverbs.Master Chan used them daily. Chan brushed into his hand some of the stray powder off of his cluttered work desk that was piled high with paperwork, and tossed it into a small incense burner that sat next to his computer, adding the scent of green tea to whatever the hell else fragrance was in there. He grabbed the small china cup, which looked awkward in his huge hands, and made a hand motion towards the other. "Go ahead Fox, drink up, you'll feel better." Fox gingerly grabbed the cup, his hand still shaking from exhaustion, and after staring at the tea for awhile, gulped down half of it. It was hard to keep a good grip on the cup, the bandage surface was kind of slippery, and his finger movement was hindered. His knuckles stung at the same time.besides getting the usual neomycin, Chan also treated him with an alcohol wipe and some iodine, "Just in case." Either way, the tea felt somewhat soothing. It went down his throat like a sudden wave that took away all the dryness he had from breathing so hard.his body still ached, but it was getting better. As for his stress, it hadn't really been touched.It made him tense, sitting here with Chan giving him that analyzing look he was known for in total silence, having little clue what was going on in his mind.  
"Fox."  
"Yeah.?"  
"I'm getting the impression something has really gotten to you, something that's tearing away at you, no?"  
Fox looked up with a surprised look on his face, his eyes widened. Was he really that easy to read at a casual glance? He just nodded slowly, sighing at having to answer for the umpteenth time.  
"Whatever it is, it has made you oblivious to yourself and your surroundings.is this because of what's happened to your father?"  
Chan had been pretty much correct. Fox couldn't quite understand how Chan had pieced it together.he didn't really talk to the other teachers, nor did Fox see him lately. Fox just looked back at his face that was frozen in the same expression, the stern but quiet expression of deep concern with eyes that hardly blinked, just stared and had a look of careful observation.  
Fox's mouth hung limply, but not even a stutter came out before Chan raised his hand.  
"Don't. If it's something you don't want to talk about, you don't have to force it. I shouldn't dig.I'm sorry for even asking."  
Fox didn't say anything back. He broke eye contact, and gulped down what was left of his tea. For several minutes, he just held the still warm but empty cup, looking at the floor. Chan said nothing either, but still kept observing.Chan finally released a deep sigh, setting his own cup off to the side and leaned back into his office chair.  
"Fox, I don't know what's going through your mind right now, or why you are so down, but.I want to tell you a story, one I've hardly shared with anyone outside of real close relations.although I think you may take some interest."  
No eye contact was made, but Fox at least gave a nod, still looking down at the floor. Chan breathed, looking up at the ceiling, reminiscing.  
"Most of you know, I get all this tea of mine straight from my hometown, Kyoensho. Not only me, but, many other people.its been doing tea exports for generations.but, that is not the point. When I was a child, there had been little government control in that area, and local warlords and gang bosses almost had free reign of the area. Of course.Kyoensho was attractive because the tea from there catches a lot of money. Understandable for them to think like that, no?"  
Idle nodding was the response.  
"It was because of this threat that Kyoensho, along with many towns, had to form their own volunteer militias. They gathered together whatever weapons they could and do what they could without a formal major government. The central government of Corneria still wasn't in effect in the region, and the area was managed just by local representatives, with no real helpful amounts of military or law enforcement. One day, however.one of the warlords came with his small band of men, and started raiding the town. With that, word quickly went down the streets, and every militia member and able-bodied man with a weapon ran out to fight, hoping to hold out until help could come.  
"My father, Ryo.he was one of the men in the militia. My big brother Kim could've helped but he was told to stay home, hide my mother, my sister, and myself in the cellar.we were in there for hours, right up until one of our neighbors came up, knocking on the cellar door, giving the all clear.but."  
There was a long pause as Chan stopped suddenly, his eyes half gazing off into space, having a suddenly hollow appearance.The silence was very uncomfortable for Fox, particularly with the odd look on Chan's face.  
"Sir?"  
"Hmm? Oh, yes.our neighbor, he was a good friend of my father and was also in the militia. He had let us out when it was all over.while it was a good thing it was over, it was also unusual that father wasn't around anywhere nearby. Mother asked about father a couple of times.the neighbor was oddly silent for awhile before he bowed his head low.father was dead."  
Another pause, more discomfort. Fox didn't say anything, but Chan had continued anyway.  
"Not only was he dead.he was the only one. But do you know what made it all the more harder for us to take, Fox?"  
Fox didn't say anything. He just shook his head.  
Chan just nodded.  
"Of course.well, he wasn't killed by direct line of fire. The militia took some cover and found some of the warlord's men lazily searching the streets a couple blocks down.Militia fired, the soldiers panicked and fired a few wild shots. One of those shots.ricocheted right off the overhang on a tile roof, and the bullet grazed hard into the back of my father's neck. They said he staggered about in pain for a quite some time before falling to the ground.had his spinal cord half severed."  
Chan sighed and picked up his cup of tea again, gulping down whatever was left in the small steaming cup. He casually grabbed a tissue and started wiping out the inside of the cup for later use.  
"So, Fox.if my guess is correct, then I can sympathize with you. I also happened to have done the same thing you were doing just now, thrashing away at a training dummy, in the process wearing myself down to the point where sometimes Kim had to carry me to bed."  
He set down the cup now, and briefly threw his arms in the air as he leaned back further.  
"Hell, I'll even admit that I lay awake late at night crying.my father writing down all the statistics of the crop and sale of the tea kept me awake many times because he scratched the paper so hard. But.I found that I missed knowing he was there, and he also happened to be awake should anything happen.it was a sense of security."  
He now turned in his chair, and reached out towards a frame that was particularly deep inside the office, and was in one of the few clutter free corners. Over Chan's shoulder, he could see a fading photo of two older male men, one woman, a teenage girl and a small boy. All of them were white tigers with very similar features. There was a long silence as Chan fingered gently along the edge of the simple black frame, sinking down in his chair.  
"I wished often that if he had to die, he could've at least gone down fighting hard and taking down whatever he could up until his last breath, made a sacrifice so we could live as we knew it.not by some damn freak accident of physics."  
He set the frame down with a feather touch.  
"Fox.don't take who you have left for granted. You never know what will come their way one of these days.and don't forget some people have a small idea of what I think you're thinking."  
Fox nodded slowly in response, his mind hardly being in what Chan was talking about. It was only then that Chan looked at the aging clock that was yet another item gracing his wall. It displayed 11:21.  
"You better go now, it's late, you need sleep, and the last thing you need is getting busted for being out past curfew."  
"Yes sir, I'll be on my way."  
Fox pushed off from the seat, still tired but he could now walk with no real problem. As he made his way to the door, Chan called after him.  
"Fox?"  
"Yes sir?"  
".Try and have a good Christmas, ok?"  
Fox again just nodded and turned away.  
"I'll see.you too sir."  
  
*****  
  
The walk back to the dorm wasn't good. While the paths were still lit, the snow was still thick and falling, the air still biting to the bone with icy teeth. Walking was not an easy matter.  
When Fox had trudged wearily through the halls of the Dorm Block, his body stung with such a sudden temperature change, and his feet left puddles with every step, the snow soon flowing off of his back or soaking into his fur.  
The door to his dorm hissed open after a few tries with the cipher lock. Fox's hand's had trembled too much at first and he couldn't get the code right. He stepped in heavily, and the door shut right behind him as he stood in the foyer, his straight gaze not changing.  
The door's lock clicked behind him, and he swung his fist sideways into the wall. The hand stung terribly, still being worn down from all the punching, and he could feel his bones rattle. He didn't care about the pain. A part of his brain felt like it was going to explode from holding in his spontaneous side that still had anger in it. His body shook as he tried to take control of his breaths.  
*You think you know what I think.you had SOMETHING left at least, people who could hold you, someone to loan you strength.no, wait.I can't be angry about that.*  
His body quickly calmed.his breath became steady, and his hand drew away from the wall. The anger was gone, for now. He had gotten control of himself once more, thinking now that it was at least in good intentions that Chan told him something so personal.  
Sleep was ready to overcome him, and he probably needed it. Tomorrow he'd be with Peppy talking with the lawyer about the will, and his head needed clearing. The bed had also looked very welcoming to his weary eyes.  
Fox's feet moved forward reluctantly, but soon stopped. His eyes caught something glinting off of the lights, some kind of binder with a plastic cover that was on one of his shelves. Curious, he walked up to the binder to look at it. Its surface was covered in a thin layer of dust, having not been touched in ages. His fingers were blackened as he ran his fingers over it, feeling a certain familiarity with the object.  
Wearily pulling it off of the shelf, he blew off the dust with a swift breath, sending up a small cloud that caused a brief cough, but was soon over. Fox scanned over the cover, feeling some kind of connection that he had yet to figure out. Despite his fatigue, the object had intrigued him. He pulled the cover to the side, wondering of its contents as he took a seat at his bed.  
He was met with familiar faces, all from his known family. Fox realized what this was. It was a small collection his father had given him in case he couldn't get leave for a long time and got homesick, or else just needed to look. There were lots of recent pictures involving trips or just fun times, some pictures of friends, some of his mother.  
A grin had barely cracked his depressed features as he began flipping through the pages.it felt good to remember old memories, old times, most of which were much happier. Page by page he went through, scanning through, remembering. It was late, about one in the morning now. But he thought he would go through the pages and reminisce.just a few.  
  
*****  
In most cases, vacations at the Academy started with waking up without an alarm blaring in your ear at around nine or so in the morning, getting up lazily out of bed, realizing what the day was, and shouting in glee that the day was yours.  
That's what Fox would've been doing. It was now seven in the morning, his heart was racing and was ready to burst, his body pulsing with blood and adrenaline. His eyes were wide open and red, still staring up at the ceiling. He had dozed off sometime during the night, falling back against the wall behind the bed around one. Sleep came fast, but he was awake with fear around four. The dream he was having scared him, although it was no different from the ones he's had all week.  
The same scene, shapes, and incident, although they looked more like aircraft last night. It got clearer with every dream, every waking leaving him still asking questions about why he was so scared. His attempt to stay awake failed and he dozed off a half-hour later, screaming again at 5:18. He hadn't dozed off again since, it scared him too much.  
His clothes stuck to him as his chest slowly rose then fell, having been coated in sweat, twice. He was sweating even now, soaking himself.all from a dream he couldn't understand. The same questions raced, why was he dreaming this and what in the hell did it all mean?  
Fox was frozen to the bed, the album still open in front of him. He had apparently dozed off at a point closer to the end of the book where there was a picture of him and his father out after a paint ball game, and also one from when he accepted his Saber. In one of the corners of the acceptance photo was what seemed to be the very last photo of his mother before she went to the hospital.  
He shut the album and put it to the side on his nightstand.the past wasn't being too helpful to him lately. At the moment, he didn't feel like getting up, still exhausted, although, not feeling as scared as he did during the night now that it was day and he could comprehend what was around him.  
Sleep had again seemed like the most logical choice with his fatigue and the fact he didn't feel like eating still. Although, he didn't want to endure the dream once more only to get ten minutes of sleep. If he could, he would've not had the dream ever again, but he had the feeling it wouldn't stop for awhile, probably not until he had a damn clue what it was.  
Peppy wasn't due to take him to the lawyer's office until about eleven so they could get the will cleared up and done with. With a sigh, he forced himself out of bed, finding his balance shaky, but he could still stand. The double vision wore off, and the tired eyes were dealt with by lots of cold water to the face.  
Drying off, he took a long hard look at the mirror once more.what was there to see? He was still dark eyed, but with bags under them that only highlighted his defeated looking face. At the moment, he wasn't up to fixing his hair or shaving the small amount of fuzz on his face.  
Turning on a heel, he went out, grabbed his jacket and shoes, and was out the door. He didn't care that he was still wearing his clothes from the day before. It was still cold in the hallways, and it was still snowing lightly outside.  
  
*****  
Fox sat at the library now, still feeling the closest thing he had for breakfast in days churn in his stomach. The mess hall operated with minimal services for those who weren't going to be away for Christmas for a few days or for the entire vacation. On the way to the library he sighed and grabbed a doughnut and a cup of coffee.his stomach was a little achy initially, but he managed to down the food.  
That happened a few hours ago at about 7:30. It was now eleven. As he sat in the cavernous building that was the Academy library, now filled with light from the large, fogged in picture windows, he had a stack of books growing next to him as he sat at the fairly utilitarian steel table. The books all came from the small medical section of the library, a collection of shelves off in a corner where students training to be medics or military health workers came to grab books for their study. Fox didn't have to search hard to find what he wanted.  
On one of the shelves was a particular section of books that had looked very well used, only being outdone by books on basic medical treatment. They were the psychology texts, covering many items of information, but mostly post traumatic stress syndrome, better known as shell shock. Browsing quickly through the summaries, he took armfuls back to the desk.  
In the few hours, he had gone through every one of them at least once. Some he read twice with great intensity, not noticing the few people that were coming or going, or the grumbling of the librarian trying to get everything into place on the taller shelves.  
Every single book, varying from as thin as a small text book to almost the size of a dictionary, had some kind of section on post traumatic stress syndrome. Others had varying coverage on dreams and how the mind and individual react to varying events. Everyone said the same gist that was common sense among people.  
Shell shock is generally caused when the person experiences something traumatizing or something that is very terrible or gruesome. Dreams have no particular reason for happening, but are products of the brain functioning during sleep. Individuals have basic reactions to certain situations in most cases, although, some people react very differently to certain situations.  
Nothing particularly new.certainly doesn't explain why someone suddenly has dreams about flying ship like shapes blowing each other up where a certain disappearance of a ship scares them enough to make them lose sleep.  
Frustrated, he tossed all of the books back onto the shelves, hardly able to believe he had wasted a little more than four hours trying to find an answer to something a world class shrink couldn't answer for his life.  
Peppy wanted to grab him around 11:30 at his dorm. It was about 17 minutes till then, and Fox was beginning to hear that his footsteps were no longer so solitary as the morning crowd of cadets doing their book and research dealings began to come in. Zipping up his jacket on the way out, he casually passed through the sensor gate and passed through the door that let in a brief gust of cold air.  
  
*****  
  
Fox had waited several more minutes than expected for Peppy, the bits of snow gathered up on his fur and clothing have gone long past melting, already soaking in. He was drumming his fingers on the desk, trying to avert his gaze from the medal and flag cases that were still sitting on the desk.  
It was then that Peppy knocked on the door with a loud rapping. Fox got up and opened it.  
"Morning, Fox."  
"Hey, Peppy."  
"You ready to go?"  
Fox shrugged. "Not much to get ready for." He began to walk out towards the hallway.  
"Hold on a sec Fox.you sure you want to keep those around here? Why not put em someplace in the house."  
Peppy nodded towards the cases that were sitting on Fox's desk. Fox looked at them for a few moments before he sighed and gathered them up in his arms. Peppy did have a point.why keep them around here all the time?  
"Alright, lets go." Peppy said barely above a whisper.  
It was a long walk to the parking a block away. Once they were outside the somewhat heated hallways, it was freezing cold, the snow still coming down slowly. It wasn't as much as when it all started, but it was still enough to keep the ground covered.  
The silence lasted long between the two, even as they passed the gate guard showing their ID's. It wasn't until they crossed the slush covered street and began walking down the sidewalk did they talk as their breaths came out almost solid in the cold.  
"You're awfully silent today." Peppy said with a bit of a stutter from the chill.  
Fox only glanced at him and shrugged. "Maybe."  
"Are you still being bugged by.?"  
Fox nodded a cold nod, as if saying "Yes, you don't need to be cryptic with me about it."  
Words didn't pass again, even as they got into the even chillier parking garage that absorbed the cold temperatures in its concrete walls. The elevator ride was warm, yet awkward. In another minute, the two were at Peppy's old but still reliable Crusader Mark IV. Climbing in, it was initially just as cold as the outside.  
The car took many tries for the engine to take the charge and activate, only working after Peppy muttered some curses under his breath and gave the side of the console a good whack. It coughed to life, the car shakily rising and beginning a hover.  
In a few minutes they were onto the street and onto the metro highway towards the downtown area. Snow was all over the roads, and crews with ground based clean up vehicles had to go and clean up the mess because of possible interference with the magnetic effects taking place between the vehicles and the road. Any anomalies could send a vehicle with low power hover pods out of control.  
The Mark IV had handled fine so far, but traffic was moving slowly with a combination of the crews and the business people driving off to their lunch appointments. Peppy could only mutter and sit there with his head leaning on an arm. Fox remained silent. After several minutes Peppy shot a glance towards Fox.  
"Fox, if you're trying to hide what's on your mind, you're not doing a very good job of it.it doesn't take some trauma analyst to guess that."  
Fox made a heavily exasperated sound.  
"What do you expect? I only had my dad die a few days ago, had to deal with all this crap, and my life as I knew it is gone. What have I got left here?!"  
Peppy glared momentarily.  
"Boy.don't go thinking you're the only one suffering because you aren't. You think that I'm able to wake up every morning and live every day as I did before then? You think I've been left with a clear conscious after what happened?"  
Fox didn't say anything.he just continued to look out the window at the falling snow. Peppy sighed.  
".I'll tell you, I have not. You're being real selfish if you think you're the only one with problems. I've had my share, having to cope, and deal with all of the technicalities. You're also not the only one who's missing him, he was my friend too."  
Nothing from Fox still. Peppy turned his eyes back to the road as the traffic had begun moving.  
"Fox.if I were to be given all the power in the known universe, I would've gone into that battle and made sure he wasn't taken in by that tractor or whatever the hell it was, and I would've gone and help blast all those little bastards to hell. But, fate had other plans that day.and I wasn't able to do a damn thing about it.  
"All I can do now is go and do what I swore to him I would do in this kind of time, and make sure his son got through everything ok.I made that oath as a friend and I plan to keep it."  
Fox shared a brief glance with Peppy before the two turned away again.  
".Sorry." Fox almost whispered, his knuckles white from his fist being clenched so tightly as he said this.the grip soon relaxed.  
"Hmm?"  
"Sorry. That's all. I'm taking this too hard."  
Peppy just shrugged.  
"Fox, you can't take these things too hard.you can take them too lightly or let it take control of you, but you can't take it too hard.don't think anything about it. You probably have a right to be a bit more on edge than me."  
The rumbling of the old engine and all the outside noises was all that was in the car now. Peppy didn't even grumble during the many times he was cut off as they entered downtown.  
  
*****  
  
The lawyer's office was sadly enough a lot like the ones from the movies and television. It wasn't just a small out of the way firm, it was one of Corneria's larger law firms, taking up a few floors in the Aurora Flight Systems building in downtown. A number of floors were rented out to various small companies and firms, including the law firm of Setlen, Bailey, and Krachzev.  
The firm was known to work mainly in with cases involving space and technology, some weapons law consulting, representing upstanding private mercenaries that got into bar fights or the like, and their fair share of the usual property law, criminal law, wills, and so forth.  
Fox's father told him stories of how when this firm was a lot smaller and was interested in helping more upstanding mercenaries, he did some business with them and offered to do them a favor by referring them to other mercenaries. In return he got a certain higher degree of service and some useful connections for getting rid of the occasional idiot trying to get him into trouble.  
Fox and Peppy were now sitting in the locked up firm library, shelves full of thick law books lining the walls as they sat at the large wooden conference table in the center. Sitting nearby in more plush leather chairs were the partners Setlen, Bailey, and Krachzev. They were all middle-aged males, seemingly well to do with how expensive looking their suits were. Setlen was an otter with a touch of the Britain region in his accent, Bailey was a collie that seemed to be from the Southern sector, Krachzev a bear with a Russian accent and a slight smell of vodka and caviar on his breath.  
The partners briefly shook hands with Fox and Peppy in a business like manner, quick to sit back down and get their paperwork in order.  
"Ah, Fox McCloud, I wish we could've met under more pleasant circumstances." Setlen muttered with a touch of grimness.  
"Yes, we all do. You're father had a small hand in getting us off the ground with the private soldier sector. I'm glad now we made ads in some publications. Man knew how to strike a bargain." Bailey was saying in a less than cheery tone.  
"Indeed, but enough about business.this is a dark time for some people who knew his graces Mr. McCloud, particularly for you. We are.sorry for the incident. Normally, an intern would've handled this but.James did things for us for very little in return, and we were watchers of his deeds. We felt it better to do this ourselves." Krachzev said with a tone like Setlen's.  
"Yes, yes, not just an everyday client.ah, right, you wanted to go over the will, right?" Setlen questioned.  
"That's what we came here to do Mr. Setlen." Peppy responded.  
Fox nodded, his eyes looking down the grains of the table and not meeting eyes with the lawyers.  
*Where has his fame not spread? Even his lawyers liked him.*  
"Indeed, indeed.you have the papers don't you Nick?"  
"Yes, I do actually." Krachzev dug through a pile of papers he had laid out, previous contracts, documents, and other miscellaneous paper work. He finally pulled out from between some papers a slightly tattered envelope that looked to be fairly thick. In a manner that looked liked he was reluctant to do it, he tore open the envelope, pulling out the folded contents. He began to flip through them. "Let's see.copies of deeds and titles, information on accounts, list of major personal properties.ah, here it is." In his huge hands, he now held a nicely folded piece of good paper that had a wax seal that held down the fold. Its cracked surfaces contributed to its crumbling to the table as Krachzev broke it as roughly as he did the envelope. Once unfolded, it turned out to be much smaller than Fox had expected.from the text he could see, it was also short. Krachzev looked at it for a few moments before he slid it over to Bailey. Bailey quietly picked it up and scanned over the words, eyes darting across the page. "This is what probably will be my final will and testament. Many have a long list of specific items for specific people filled with long-winded introductions, but here.there isn't much to say. There is no other family around except for what remains of my direct family, my son Fox McCloud. There is also, no executor. My last request is for these simple instructions to be carried out by the parties mentioned and by the layers of Setlen, Bailey, and Krachzev. Exactly one sixth of my remaining assets is to be given to my private mercenary group, the Starfox team through Peppy Hare. He is permitted to deal with the specifics on this issue. "My second order is also my most important. Every one of my remaining worldly possessions and assets is to go directly to my son Fox McCloud with no hold ups. There will be no exception to these orders unless it is absolutely unavoidable. To those that are involved, you have my thanks for carrying these out. As much as I'll probably want all of you around, hopefully it will be awhile before we meet again for some drinks." There was grim, quiet laughter around the table from everyone except Fox. It didn't quite strike him as being very amusing, although he couldn't care much at the time.the thought of having everything was a small shock. The men soon calmed down and Bailey went back to finishing whatever technicalities were left "Signed, James McCloud, December 22nd 2510. Witnessed by Basil Setlen, John Bailey and Nikolai Krachzev." Bailey flipped the paper closed, and slid it across the glossy surface of the table towards Fox. It stopped a couple of inches in front of him. Krachzev did the same with the records. The entirety of the paperwork fit into a small packing envelope, and the whole process was finished within a half-hour. "Isn't there.anything else? I thought this would be more complicated." Fox stammered, fairly baffled. Bailey just shrugged. "Yeah, that's about it. You still have to go to those places that has his property records and accounts sometime after the holiday season maybe, get the transfer to your name made official. Otherwise, this is about it." Krachzev nodded. "Indeed. Your father helped make things a lot easier. He gave us his records, told us not to bother looking for any living relatives besides you, did most of the paperwork without any major help. Very clean." Fox stared for a couple moments at the lawyers. "This means then." Setlen nodded his head. "It's safe to say you're the legal owner of all of James McCloud's private property, possesions, and accounts, which I might add is worth several hundred thousands of credits, not too far from the million point if I remember right." From that point on, Fox's mouth had hung fairly slack, even as the lawyer's made their commentary about how smoothly everything left as he signed a few papers they handed him one by one. He had everything.the house, the car, savings.everything. Fox was speechless even after he and Peppy left a few minutes later, shaking hands with the partners who wished again that "they could've met under better conditions" and sent him out the door with the hopes he'd continue to do business with them.  
  
*****  
  
The day was growing short, and Fox was becoming tired. Between digesting all the information and having cramps in his hand from signing the papers, he was tired.but it didn't stop him from wanting to go to the house. Peppy had driven him over, all along the way reminiscing on various memories. Fox was still struck speechless. It wasn't everyday he became responsible for everything that had once been his father's. As they left downtown and headed for the house, he noticed how less dense the buildings became, and how much more suburban everything had become. He had begun to see more houses and trees, and lots more sidewalks. Children were still playing in yards, not having been called in for supper yet as the sun began setting on the horizon casting an orange light everywhere. The houses had begun to look very similar eventually, all fairly square like with gray and white exteriors, the only major differences being how people had chose to decorate with various wind chimes and garden ornaments. Through the open windows was heard the laughter of children and the sound of the wind blowing. Accompanying was the symphony that came together in any small suburban neighborhood, different songs playing, voices blending, and the sounds of people living their lives in peace. The smell of various suppers being cooked barely wafted on the air. They soon passed a park in the central area where some people still lingered, some families, some older children and teens going about their business, some couples finding a quiet place to enjoy themselves. As the got towards the end of the street, Peppy had put his foot on the brake. They had stopped in front of a house that in the front seemed very bare, not much change with the exception of the small Cornerian Army flag that hung near the front door on the perch. Otherwise, it was just another house. Peppy nodded and Fox began climbing out of the car, taking the medal box and flag with him. "Fox." Peppy said quietly. "Yeah?" Peppy responded by pulling a small set of keys out of his pocket, containing one larger key and a set of smaller keys. He pointed them all out. "House, back shed, car. The rest are just for various locks. They're marked." He tossed the keys towards Fox who caught them in mid air and pocketed them into his jacket. He glanced towards the house briefly, then turned back. "So.how long." "Fox, it's yours now. It's vacation now, so you can pretty much stay all you want. Everything should still be the way James left it a few weeks ago." They didn't say anything for awhile. Fox kept glancing back at the house. "You want to go ahead, have some time to yourself and the homestead?" Peppy asked. ".That would be great. Thanks Peppy." Peppy nodded. "Ok, you take care of yourself ok? Everything is at your disposal.I might call or drop by sometime in the next week or two, check how things are going. Expect some calls from other people too.they're gonna want to make some transfers on ownership." Fox nodded. After a few moments, the two exchanged handshakes, and gave nods of goodbye. Peppy started up the engine once more and drove off down the street, immediately turning the corner that was right next to the house. Fox had already begun walking up the drive, taking in everything. He was back where his mother and father started a family, where he spent most of his life and where so many memories were kept. He wasn't just at another building that he happened to stay in. This place was special.  
  
He was home. 


	8. Chapter 7: Eden

"_In my field of paper flowers / And candy clouds of lullaby / I lie inside myself for hours / And watch my purple sky fly over me." –Evanescence, "Imaginary"_ Chapter 7: Eden 

The door quietly clicked as he swung it shut behind him. The lock did the same as he twisted the lever. Beneath his feet, tile squeaked as he wriggled his sneakers loose, kicking them into a corner of the foyer as he used to do all the time coming home from school.

Fox looked about him, taking in everything that he hadn't seen for about half a year now. The walls were still the same fairly dull white, the carpet about the same beige color. To his right was a coat closet where the only thing on the other side of the inner wall was the garage. Straight ahead, there was a staircase going up and down, and an entranceway into the kitchen area nearby. On the left was the well-sized living room, with yet another way into the kitchen.

He felt like exploring the house some, and thought he'd check out the lower and upper story later. Besides being logical, his watch said it was about ten after six, and his hunger was finally getting the best of him.

Might as well take stock, he thought.

Turning on his left heel, he was feeling soft carpet under his sock feet within a couple steps. Glancing right, he saw the familiar couch and recliner, both very well used. Racks of video discs and magazine holders stood ready for any who needed their services, and end tables on the couch's sides held onto nick knacks and awaited the next can of soda or bowl of chips to be set on their faux mahogany surface.

On the left was a great deal of electronics. The large, aging stereo set, more racks of movies and the like, game systems and the stereo's main receiver resting on one shelf, videodisc player on another. In the center of everything flanked by two large speakers was the also aging 42-inch television panel. Behind it was the subwoofer. The entire set up on that side was a mass of silver and black plastics or metals.

In a corner where the house pretty much ended was a large picture window built into the corner, next to it a medium sized table that was used to do work, sometimes read or eat meals. Nothing was on it except a white table cloth and a vase of flowers that was running low on water. All but one of the four chairs were fairly dusty and looked like they were not used often.

"Not many guests I suppose…" were the brief words Fox muttered.

The last rays of sunlight shone through the picture window, the beams of pink and crimson disappearing. The sun sank behind some hills and the other houses of the street, leaving an edge of red on the tops, leaving the rest of the sky purple. Fox stared for a few moments, then idly pressed the light switch touch pad on a nearby wall. The room and some of the kitchen were flooded with a bright white light from the in ceiling lamps pointed towards the TV panel. Another pad was touched. More bright white light, but in the kitchen, letting him see what he was doing after he entered.

All that separated the kitchen from the living room was a waist high counter that stuck out, and left room for a couple people to get through at one time. A stretch of cupboards was over the same stretch of counter, attached to the ceiling. Unused pots hung pristinely underneath, and the kitchen was in about the same shape, the knives in their block next to the cutting board, the surfaces clean. The appliances looked to be in good shape also, completely ready to go.

Looks like Dad at least kept things up

A spice rack was mounted on the wall nearby, still the same as he remembered from before the Academy. A thick layer of dust lay on top of many jars, about 20 in rows of five, tending to be the more exotic kind. Nothing new…seemed to be that way since his mother died.

Not a gourmet, but could keep things in shape…yeah…

He stared for a few moments at the rack, memories seeping into his head. Many times did he hear those jars clatter as his mother made…whatever, stew, casserole, steak, even stuff out of cans or the freezer. She always managed to add a small something. His father would try sometimes. That usually kept him out of there for a month after tasting his creation.

Fox shook his head. He remembered he gave himself a chore. So far he had spices…there was still everything else to go through.

"Chili…more chili, soup, and…some pasta mix."

Fox tossed the last few items back into one of the pantry cupboards. He made a mental note of everything. Closets had usual stock of soups, boxed goods, and so on. Freezer had some frozen dinners, large amounts of meat, surplus bread, anything that needed to be preserved. Fridge just had regular cold cuts, drinks, veggies, and then various garnishes. There were a couple containers of leftovers, the largest looking like Frito pie, probably the most recent casserole, and attempt at actual cooking.

One of the closets had a load of military MREs set aside for an easy but still fairly tasty and filling meal. In the same closet was a pile of cheap cigarettes from the days when the army threw them in along with the sundries. They did away with that a long time ago, but his father almost never smoked anyway.

"Might be able to throw something together…" he muttered to himself.

Fox lost the urge to eat, his mind becoming inadvertently more focused on nostalgia than the demands of his stomach. He opted then to not bother with the downstairs yet. Besides being storage, it just housed an area for some sparring and a table that could handle pool, ping pong, whatever was the whim. He remembered he and friends, usually Bill, had many an intense ping pong match, his mother usually drawing them away long enough every hour or so to have some lemonade and snacks. The upstairs had more to look at, being where the old rooms and other miscellaneous living areas were.

He'd been up and down these stairs many times before in his lifetime, coming up for bed, the occasional time out, or else rousing one of his parents from bed if something was planned for that day. Each step still made the same creaks they did when he was here a few months ago and they still felt the same to his feet. Nothing's changed, at least with the physical house.

There wasn't much to see initially. There was a hallway going straight out from the stairs, a side passage half way down on the left. To the right was the regular bath, then the guest bed, and at the end next to a window that now barely lit up the hallway was his old room. The passage to the left had on its right the way into the master bed and bath and on the left the office/computer room. There was also a window at the end, rays of light coming in and casting about shadows that stretched far back towards him.

He'd go down towards the end of the hall. Quick glance into the bath showed everything was normal, everything in its place and looked fairly clean…very clean considering there was only one guy most of the time. Guest room resulted in the same, simple set of furniture in which to store things, and a single kept up bed that obviously hadn't been used for some time, dust being very visible on the wooden surfaces of the frame.

He shrugged his shoulders, figuring it wasn't essential to clean that up. He walked further down the hall, the fading light still slightly warm. The last door was closed, but he knew what it was like before he even turned the knob. It was a room that he had occupied most of his life up until a few years ago.

The dust in here made the guestroom look like nothing. No one had clearly spent any particular amount of time in here since he left. The shades were down, although the various trophies from sports still glimmered, as did his models, most of them military fighters. The posters of flying fighter formations were quite visible, as well as a few miscellaneous pictures of relatives, friends, and moments in his life. His bed still had the same forest green bedding as it always has.

Images came by of studying at the small desk, hitting bed after a long day, or even as far back as when he and Bill as kids would stay up late on overnights, checking out some kind of new magazine or book, talking about girls as they got older, things like that. Bill never did like to spend much time at his house…almost was like having a twin brother around, Slippy sometimes being a triplet when he could actually get away from studies. Air Force brats sticking together then, brats sticking together now.

He quietly shut the door as he left. Walking down the hall, he reflected on how life wasn't quite so innocent anymore, and how nice it could be if it still were…

Turning on his heel, he drug his feet along the carpet, the soft scuffing sound of his feet somehow roaring in his head as if he were standing next to a fighter having an engine test in the hangar. He figured the lack of sleep and food lately must've been starting to mess with his head.

_Shit…I AM going to have to ease off…surprised I can still stand straight._

Fox rubbed a hand over his weary eyes and shook his face. Walking outside might be a bad idea for awhile, he thought to himself. Cops might mistake him for some kind of drunk with his behavior and appearance, as would any civ out on the street.

Bringing himself to reality with few shakes of his head, he went down the adjacent hall, not even glancing into the office, he didn't need to check there. To his right was a door that as he pushed it open, led into the spacious master bedroom.

The last rays of pink light came in from the large window, shining over the dressers and the simple but well furnished king-size bed. In the back of the room was a way to the master bath to the left of the bed, and to the right a huge closet. The bed itself was a tasteful beige color with black accents, large pillows gracing the head end.

Looking it all over made him think to some words his father said sometime during Summer Break after his first year. _Son, if you're around here and I'm away someplace, master room's all yours. You may as well have something better than your old hole. _He sighed, thinking how he'd end up taking that offer up for many nights to come.

Not much else graced the room. A set of oak drawers was along one wall, on top of it the usual assortment of pictures and random doodads like pocket change and different keys. One of them was probably to the old CM XHP Mark 13. Looking over the keys he could see, he saw one with a distinctive arrow pattern, made to look fast.

_Yep, must be it…if only it'd actually run_

His father was always too stubborn to take it to a mechanic, and never did figure out what happened. It just didn't get off the ground one day, and many weekends were spent with no result. Fox thought it odd for a moment, then just left the keys alone.

There was only one closet, all it had was a few sets of clothes, old military uniforms, and a black carbon fiber box with steel trim and latches. Fox remembered what it held. It was a gun they used to take out target shooting every now and then, one that still used bullets. Not very many people had them, but they were around for collectors and shooters, even some military use. Some soldiers favored them over the standard blaster sidearm. They either really preferred bullets for a tactical reason such as not giving away your position as easily like a blaster would with the lengthy beam of light, or had some kind of trust built from using the older assault rifles. Some felt the bullets did more damage in the long run since the wound wasn't cauterized by the beam. Blasters did have no recoil, performed the job they were made for, and were the latest gadget in armaments, but some saw the more complex technology as a liability in the field.

He walked in, taking the box down from the shelf. He ran his hands across the glistening yet rought surfaces nostalgically before he went ahead and flipped open the steel catch. There was no lock to get past, James always trusted Fox not to pull any crap with it. Inside, resting in molded depressions in the dense, black foam padding was a long barreled semi automatic pistol, and two clips, still loaded with what he remembered to be 45-caliber match grade ammunition.

Fox remembered when his father brought the gun home. They spent the whole afternoon checking it out and couldn't wait to take it out sometime. It was a Mischler "Drache" Elite pistol, one of the finest target pistols that one could get without a lot of searching and trouble.

As he looked over it, he stroked the polished alloy surfaces, then wrapped his hand around the rubberized grip. The weapon was rather long for a pistol, the whole slide being about seven inches or so long, but it felt very balanced in his hand, almost like an extension of his arm. With a large enough pocket, one could rather easily draw the pistol since there was no external hammer, and the safety is internalized, with both a grip and a trigger safety. It was clearly not made just for the casual shooter, but also for the soldier that had premium tastes in sidearms.

_This could do a lotta damage to a guy. Hate to be on the open end…especially if it had hollow points loaded…_

He continued holding it for a few moments longer before he slipped the pistol back into its case. The case was nestled back into its designated space on the closet shelf. Fox stepped out of the closet, sitting down on the bed to think. He realized that now the house was his. The car was his. All the legalities had been taken care of, and he was now the rightful owner of the McCloud estate, period. Nothing else to think of, nothing else to do. Hunger was still not an issue.

Fox's eyelids started weighing down, his vision becoming blurred with what had turned out to be an exhausting day of nostalgia. His body slumped back onto the bed, his legs barely flipping over onto the mattress. Unconsciously, his body began to curl up and his head found a comfortable spot on one of the massive pillows. The world around him began to blur into darkness, his thoughts about his new reality slowing and tapering off as his tired body finally persuaded his mind to take a plunge into sleep…


	9. Chapter 8: Plunge

* * *

"_I'm breaking the habit tonight."_

_-Linkin Park, Breaking the Habit_

_Chapter 8: Plunge_

The sun began to seep through the blinds. They eventually grew over Fox's dry, tired eyes. He had a mass of bedding in each hand, the right side of his face welded to the pillow beneath, his entire body petrified as a thick film of sweat dried into his fur.

He had the dream again.

It was clearer. He could better make out the ships now. There were four Arwings and a swarm of Venomian fighters. He began to believe that his mind must've been conjuring odd images as a means of comprehending what Peppy had told him. Or was it one of those psychic, extrasensory dreams some people get? He didn't know. Even though he felt there was some reason for the dream, it didn't scare him any less.

He awakened clawing at the sheets and screaming at about ten, waking to the darkened room after the 'explosion'. The dream probably set in an hour or two after he dozed off. Since then, he forced himself to stay awake, ignoring his body's protests. He continued to shudder with fear and stare towards the blinds. As much as he wanted to get up and move about because of his fear, he couldn't bring himself to leave the silky cocoon of sheets roughly pulled around him.

"Goooood morning Corneria!"

Fox screamed and dislodged the sheets further from the mattress, pulling them over his head. He quietly whimpered until his exhausted mind began to put information about his surroundings together.

_ ...It's coming from next to me, it's not a person. Just the radio…must be eight now._

His body settled slightly. He remembered his father typically woke up at six sharp, but when he was home and didn't have any jobs he gave himself an extra couple hours. The alarm must've been reset to eight when he left the house on his last day of duty…His reddened eyes glanced towards the radio, and the glowing display confirmed it was about eight in the morning. He listened to the chattering of the DJ.

"It's a beautiful morning this December 21st! It's 8 AM and the sun's beginning to shine through the clouds and illuminate the winter wonderland we've got going. The snow is now a few feet deep, temperatures remaining steadily below freezing. Great for the kids, but the traffic report this morning isn't favorable…"

Fox began to zone out the droning of the icy roads and potential interference with the magnetic fields. He timidly raised up his hand, and quickly slapped his hand down on the alarm button. He just as quickly withdrew his hand, almost as if he thought the radio could bite back. He curled tighter into a ball of fur and blanket, feeling chilled. Did he forget the thermostat or was it the odd chills again? It could've been either.

The day was a blank canvas once again. As far as he was concerned everyone he knew was going to be off at their families for the next week, or otherwise committed. Falco was mentioning something a month ago about seeing some people in the home turf downtown. Slippy was due to head on out to the mountains with his folks today. Bill volunteered to do some extra cadet security detail at the Academy, and would be doing that until Christmas Eve when he went home.

Fox contemplated if he should stay in bed, and if he did for how long. His mind slowly gathered itself, eventually able to actively think rather than just remember information or act on instinct. The paperwork and niceties were done, there was no place he had to be, no one he had to meet…he had no obligations to the outside world at all. The day was truly his. The cold hand of reality had decided to leave him be. Whether or not this was beneficial remained to be seen. Being left to stew in his thoughts, however, could be just as hurtful as being under the pressure of outside forces. The hand wasn't striking his face, yet there was a potential for a stinging bruise to emerge from the past.

He desired sleep. He desired a true rest from his trials, and from the nightmares that have become reality, or continue to reside in his mind. But it was the latter that also made him fear shutting his eyes. Fearing the images he had only begun to understand.

He chose to confront the more tangible uncertainties. Throwing the blankets from his grasp, he sat up with a yawn and blinked away the last remnants of sleep. He realized he basically slept on top of the bed the entire night, probably the reason he found it cold. The sweat soaked clothes he'd been wearing since the day before didn't help.

Fox's feet dragged as he walked out of the master bedroom and out into the hall, towards his room. He ignored nostalgia, and went straight to the dresser. He opened it and confirmed his suspicion, there were still some casual clothes handy for his visits home. He tossed his coat onto the bed, and changed into a white sweater and jeans.

It took him several more minutes to get from upstairs, to sitting at the kitchen table under the rays of sunshine that had only grown brighter. In between the two locations he lazily tossed the old clothes in the laundry and hung his light coat in the closet. After that he managed to find a nutrition bar in the closet full of rations. He was now leaning on one elbow, lazily gnawing on the artificially sweetened, grainy bar. It was hard, the house having been cold during the night. He'd have to remember to turn up the thermostat.

Fox was sitting in the same spot where he spent the better part of 18 years worth of eating. Back towards the windows, kitchen towards his left. Many meals had passed before him in this spot, ranging from plain cereal to lumberjack breakfasts. From soup and bread to full Thanksgiving feasts. He could almost hear sausage sizzling, the coffee machine brewing. Then the cold, hard mass of what barely passed for chocolate flavored jarred him back to the present as he tried to swallow it. He tried drowning it with water. There was no coffee or juice to be had.

He crumpled the wrapper, made a shot for the trashcan underneath the counter. The ball of foil bounced a couple of times on the edges before it tumbled in. The water was finished, the glass set down with a loud thump. Fox rested his head in his crossed arms, still barely awake. He yearned for some caffeine. Or at least for the sugars in the bar to stop taking their sweet time and kick in. He chuckled dryly at the terrible, unintended pun of his last thought.

_ What IS there to do anyway…_

Fox turned the thought over several times. He could go back to the Academy and grab some extra clothes for his stay, maybe bring the flag case and medal over, but he didn't feel like making the long transit trip first thing in the morning. The car was a project he could work on. It was there and had the side benefit of completing something his father always wanted done. Again, not his idea of morning activity. There was a small neighborhood park a couple blocks away…he hadn't been there in quite some time.

_ Maybe the fresh air will do me good…_

He pushed himself away from the table, and walked over to the foyer closet to survey what was available. Inside it was a mass of olive drabs and grays, standard military colors. All their outerwear, his father either brought back from service or bought down at the clothing sales on base. He had insisted that while not fashionable, they were certainly functional. In any case, he needed something more substantial in light of the weather's progress.

Fox usually found the coats boring…but his father was right on the functional part. Always reasonably dry, always warm. He selected a grey winter coat that was on a hanger, made from very heavy waterproof fabric, filled with a dense insulator and covered on most available surfaces with pockets, even with some small pouches on the arms. There was no doubt it was made for combat, having double layers of the heavy cloth on stress areas like the elbows and on the shoulders where the rifle's stock would rest. There were also generous amounts of maneuverability in the joints, and there was enough room for a combat vest underneath, and a big enough hood to fit over a helmet, even including a flap that could open for an extended range comm antennae.

Right underneath on the floor was a pair of insulated black leather boots with rubber bottoms, studded on the sole for traction. He remembered them being rather heavy, but warm and very supportive, certainly not too uncomfortable to run in. They were also made for use on a distant frozen battlefield, probably designed with the input of soldiers based on Fortuna.

Having his gear picked out, he donned it all, feeling about ten pounds heavier. As Fox walked out the front door, the chill was surprising, colder than the last couple of days, almost matching how he felt as he rolled out of bed. He locked up the house, and as he left the front porch, the ground went from cold pavement to fresh, powdery snow that made the distinct sound of compaction as he heavy feet trudged through. The weather forecast was correct, the snow was indeed pretty deep. The further out he got, the closer the snow got to his knees and started to lick at his jeans, his walk now leaving a wake of snow flowing off to the side. All the while it continued to fall.

He walked down the street, towards the east. It was clear not too many vehicles had passed by that morning. Snow was slightly disturbed where a low enough car skimmed over it, or when a large sport utility hover passed by and its strong magnets disturbed the snow. Up and down the street he could hear the sounds of excited children running, playing, the entire world now theirs. The city maintenance department is infamously slow, but by the end of the day there will be significantly less powder in the streets, at least for the evening. It held true that the wheels of bureaucracy turned slowly, but grinded finely.

As Fox covered the blocks towards the center of his neighborhood, closer to the park, there was more life. Kids were congregating in the yards of whichever friend had one handy, and fighting their make believe wars with snowy ordnance. Stubborn salary-folk had braved the snow here, evident by the quietly humming vehicles that passed by occasionally, and by how much more packed snow was here. In another couple blocks, he saw the street split in the middle and curve outward in a circle, seeing the snow capped trees of the park up ahead.

It wasn't a particularly large park, maybe only an area of a few city blocks. But it was large enough to accommodate the neighborhood generously. Many a summer block party passed through here with the neighborhood association. Fox's mother always brought a variety of wonderful cookies and bars. His father always had a giant bowl of some hearty chip dipping concoction he made, often cheesy, spicy, and meaty, all at once.

It was also here he often had not ordinary snow ball fights with Bill and Slippy, but what they used to consider grand, epic snowball fights, where they fought guerrilla style with hit and run tactics across the entire park. As they got older they even did this in the later evening hours, making up more elaborate tricks for the perfect hit. It was even here where he'd walk out and take a glance at whatever stars he could see when he just needed to be alone, or felt like taking care of some school reading outside instead of inside the house. It was a kind of sanctuary in those times.

As he crossed the street, he could see that even now, there were kids doing much the same things he used to do, hastily assemble snowballs as they ran, ducking for cover behind trees as they lobbed a few at their buddy and ran for the next clump of bushes or trees for temporary relief. A charming scene really…very innocent. Stereotypical childhood scene, but nonetheless very innocent and sweet.

Deeper into the park, Fox could see that everything was coated a uniform white, the only clear disturbances being the crisscrossed trails of the children in the open space, and footprints all about the pathways from joggers and walkers. There weren't too many out. Just the kids he saw earlier, a young couple huddling close for warmth as they walked, an older couple doing the same, and a small family introducing their toddler to winter.

_ Wow…it's just like always._

The park had its pathways radiate out from a central point, where there was a decent sized stone fountain surrounded by a circle of benches. It didn't take too long for Fox to come upon this area. No one was sitting in any of the benches, and apparently, not too many had passed through the area…most who had bothered to come to the park elected to be in the open areas. Fox trudged through the snow to the nearest bench, brushing off about half the snow covering it before he sat down to the cold green steel. He sighed as his muscles relaxed, a cloud coming from his mouth before cooling and melding with the air around him.

Where he sat was practically a cross section view of the park. All across the farther reaches were snow capped oaks, bare of their leaves, encased in white. There was the same field of snow, again occasionally crossed by the mark of feet. Further off to the left was an empty picnic shelter. Right in front of him was the decent sized fountain the park had, three tiers of bowls that during the spring and summer spouted freely, but during the cold months was shut down and insulated. He could barely see the grey insulating plugs that were stuck into the water nozzles.

Fox had hoped to find sanctuary in the park like he had in times past…but even now he couldn't help but remember events that have taken place here. The shelter was where the picnics he remembered earlier had taken place. He could see the fires of the barbeque, hear the chattering of people, the clattering of dishes, the bright sunny days. The oaks and fields held for him many an imagined battle, as well as lessons in creating life from the cold, dead snow in the form of round men and places where angels had laid. Even the damned fountain held memories of playing with model boats his dad helped him build, maybe the occasional mock battle between navy and pirates…

He found it odd that here he was, musing on his past and childhood like it was his entire life, as if he were to die. He was aware that he was doing this, when the average person didn't think a thing of their memories unless there was a story to tell, a memory triggered…the memories surrounding him somehow held his undivided attention, making his head spin into a cloud of senseless contemplation.

_ What the HELL!_

Fox squeezed his fist tight, his spirit screaming in confusion. He felt his nails begin to dig into his palms, scraping the skin, flecks of blood gathering underneath. The hand began quaking slightly…then more violently…then he slammed his fist down on the cold, packed snow on the bench. The scream began to well up in his lungs, boiling up into his throat. With sheer will, Fox suppressed it, his entire body beginning to quake now. The building pressure peaked. His mind managed to halt the primal emotions from taking over, and he swallowed the pressure. There was a long pause as he sat perfectly still and straight…then he exhaled a great cloud of hot air, doubling over as he did so.

His chest began to feel numbed. Tears were beginning to gather at the corner of his eyes again, but quickly the warmth left as they trailed away, and they looked just like yet another stray speck of snow on his face. Fox quickly ran his arm across his face, the coarse fabric feeling more abrasive on numbed flesh. He wanted to leave. The sanctuary had been compromised, only becoming yet another part of the hell he began to see all around him. He quickly shot up out of the bench, not even stopping to brush off the snow, and briskly walked in the direction of his street…the last thing he needed was to crack in the middle of a public area.

_

* * *

_

_ Christ._

Fox trudged on inside, roughly kicking away the snow on his boots as he stepped past the door. He slammed the door behind him, and leaned back against it, closing his eyes and slowly exhaling as his hand fumbled with the lock. There was a brief moment of dejavu. What he was doing felt like the first night after he got the news. His days were becoming a broken record it seemed. Wake in terror, go through the day, endure all the little reminders, keep going until he's no longer able to stay awake, lather, rinse, repeat. He chuckled dryly for the second time that morning.

_ I've REALLY gotta get my shit together…_

He relieved himself of the heavy clothes, putting them in the closet where they needed to be. While he did this he chuckled a few more times. As he walked back to the couch he laughed a little more freely. Sitting down the laughter began to subside, turning into a cold smile, before reverting back to the somber face his facial muscles have become accustomed to.

The numb feeling still lingered in his chest. His hand reached up and his fingers idly rubbed, but there was no effect. He sighed loudly, and leaned back into the couch, sinking into the dense cushioning. His eyes glanced over to the clock on the stereo. An icy blue 9:40 stared back at him from behind the dark window. He sighed again. Barely cut into his daylight hours. He'd still have to kill more time until nightfall, not counting trying to stay awake to avoid the dreams.

Again, the day appeared blank. The house seemed more like a cage to him, perhaps even like an ant farm for the fates to play with. They could stare and prod and chortle at his misfortune as he ran about with no direction, no goal in mind, just being there for the sake of his heart still beating, his own emotions and memories acting out against him for their sadistic entertainment, not a finger lifted.

_ Where the fuck's the damn magnifying glass already?_

He laughed to himself cynically.

_ That's right, too many clouds, and all that snow…I'm supposed to freeze._

A quieter laugh.

His dry mood subsiding, his thoughts went back to his original problem, how to keep occupied enough so that he doesn't become overwhelmed by any memories or lingering emotions, not to mention bored. Even sitting in this living room ran the risk of remembering video game duels or movies, maybe the occasional time seeing his father having been exiled to the couch for a bout of snoring, partially at command, partially out of courtesy.

There was the old Mark 13, sitting there in the garage, not having felt air underneath for several years now. A shame, he mused, that the silver beauty it was, a strange combination of geometric planes and sharp edges that still looked like it could cut through air standing still, just rested on its parking struts, collecting dust. The roof was probably still down too, so most likely the black interior would have the appearance of a suit shoulder on some poor sap with a bad case of dandruff.

He remembered, back in junior high, there on the couch he and his father sat, hungry, bored, and extremely lazy. They said what the hell and hopped in the car to get some burgers at the same little café near the Academy. They got in the car, opened the garage door, but when key was turned, there was just an idle click from the ignition mechanism itself. The engine didn't roar with passion and zest like they were accustomed to, nor did it even whimper. It was dead quiet asides an even weaker whine from the electric starter motor.

They caught a transit into town ok, no problem. But now one of his father's favorite toys was flat out broke…in the years since, he had never taken it to a mechanic. He was too proud too, always believed in fixing his own car. In all those years, that car had never left the ground. Not once. Every weekend and any time he had a few hours free, he was always under the hood or under the vehicle itself, always trying to find the one critical point. Even said he tried a new battery one time, what they always believed to be the root cause, and nothing. After all that time, after the investment in tools and guides, the investment in sweat blood and tears, his father left the world not seeing one of his two favorite machines taking off again. They never got to have that huge road trip they thought of, driving around the central continent, stopping at every great little diner they could, checking out the wonders of the ground for once. It was intended for after Fox graduated...

_ What a damn shame…_

He sighed again, musing on what was in his consideration a tragedy. The man loved his car and fighter more than anything else, second to his family. He glanced over towards the hallway where he could walk into the garage. Now that he thought about it, he never did see in detail what his father did with the Mark 13, he just caught glances as he went outside to get something. Any lingering at all, you got a cranky request to leave. Fixing the car was one of those zen moments, and his father had always wanted to be left alone to his own devices. Stubborn in a sense.

_ Did he…could he have perhaps missed something?_

The thought seemed preposterous initially, but after a few moments of this sinking in, he gave it some serious thought. His father was never a man for exact details, evidence abound for that. He was always about controlled force, always trying to get straight to the action. Precise when absolutely necessary, yes, his skills as a combat pilot proved that. But with less threatening things...he'd forget something like a little bit of water or seasoning in cooking. Often forgot little details in paperwork like dates or initials. Even his scrawl on handwritten notes demonstrated hasty zeal. There was a bad habit of throwing out directions for new gadgets on top of all that, which often came back to bite him. So maybe...

_ Oh, what the hell._

Fox jumped off of the couch, and trudged up to his bedroom to get one of his old grey PT shirts, grabbed the keys, then quickly ran down the stairs and made a sharp turn through the garage door. A gust of cold air flowed over him as he opened it. The garage didn't get any of the house's heat. It was dark asides a small column of light shining through a small window in the far wall. His hand stumbled around to his right for the light switch. High up he felt the flat lump of the garage opener. Sliding his hand down, he left the smooth plastic of the opener, felt a section of the rough drywall, and finally found the touchpad for the lighting. He tapped it on.

A sudden brightness filled the room, making him shut his eyes and turn away for a moment until he got used to the ambient light. Then he was able to look into the room, smothered in a bright white from a set of light tubes in the ceiling meant to simulate sunlight. In the center of the cold, concrete floor, surrounded by an entourage of shelves, tools of varying sizes, sporting goods, and any other junk that congregated in here, was the Mark 13.

It was long, wide, and blocky like the vehicles of days gone by, yet it had sculpted, rounded edges that tapered off towards the aft, giving it a sleek appearance. Still as imposing as it was in his earliest memories...a wide windshield wrapped around, a massive cavern of a grille, headlights with such flair one might've sworn it was alive and looking at you, imploring you to release your inner desires and put your passion into its titanic engine, wielding a few hundred horsepower, several cylinders, and a roar to bring mortal men to their knees.

At least, that's how he remembered it. He walked up and took a closer look. Now here it sat in this room, the silver paint looked duller than he remembered, dust lined the black interior. He opened the door, the parts still having a nice, solid, bassy sound. Brushing off some of the excess dust as he sat down, he sank into the comfortable yet extremely supportive seats, the sides hugging him in anticipation of taking sharp turns with no delay. The door shut with a very solid 'ca-chunk'.

The interior screamed a driver's car, all the controls being within immediate reach and angled towards him, the seats, the big no-nonsense gauges that he remembered glowed red, the positioning of the shift paddles right at his fingertips as he reached out tentatively to grab the steering wheel which fit him just like the seats did…He could almost feel the wind rushing by again, just like it did when he was a kid, could about remember that no matter what the car always felt firmly planted to the ground…thrilling, yet secure.

It wasn't too long before the still, lifeless chill of the garage shook Fox back to reality. He realized he wasn't out there on the coastal highways, breathing in the warm, salty air. He was here, in the garage of his father's house, in the middle of winter, sitting in what is at the moment an over glorified chunk of metal. There was still a moment of truth that had to be realized. What would happen when he turned that key?

Fox reached into his pocket and shuffled around until he found the keys for the car he grabbed earlier. He twisted them between his fingers for a while, watching the light glint off the various planes of geometry in the design...he sighed.

_ Time to see what she can do..._

He inserted the key, feeling the ignition hold solidly to it. He breathed a moment, prayed, and turned it forward.

Nothing.

He raised an eyebrow, perplexed. He turned the key forward again and held it there.

The weakest hint of an electrical whine.

_ Great. Just great._

He sighed, and pulled the key out from the ignition. It was just like it was all those years ago. It flat out would not work for some reason unbeknownst to him. Just like it did for his father. Fox couldn't fathom anything his father hadn't tried, but he knew that there had to be some tangible reason, or at least something that could be replaced or overhauled, so that the Mark 13 would run again. He could take it to a mechanic, it was after all his car now...

_ ...No, Dad wouldn't have wanted that. He'd want for me to keep hacking away at it...hell, stubborn just like my old man._

He quietly smiled, and pulled the hood release switch that was low and to his left near the steering column. He'd have to get in and take a look for himself...

* * *

"Damn it!"

Fox banged his head against the steering wheel. He'd lost count of how many times he'd done this. There were just as many sighs for when he gave up and pulled the keys out of the ignition. It was late in the afternoon now. He didn't bother to eat anything, nor take any breaks asides when he sat at a stool near the workbench and pored through one of the many dirty, beat up manuals lying around the garage. He leaned back in the seat and rubbed his tired eyes.

"What the hell..."

As near as he could tell, he had checked everything on the vehicle. He saw the starter battery was in good shape and had the wires connected, there were enough fluids in the system, there was fuel, and he even went so far as to check out the underside of the vehicle. The pods were just fine, just the slightest nicks from bits of kicked up gravel. They were still intact and appeared operational by the manual's word. The connecting lines underneath all looked good, there were no cracks or dents on the undercarriage. It had taken him this long to do because he was going over the entire car with a fine tooth comb.

He got out of the car, leaving the door opened like he learned to do several hours ago, and took a look under the hood. He had taken off the aluminum aesthetic covering off of the engine block and took a look in every cylinder, examined every belt, made sure nothing was bent, cracked, whatever. Now, just as it had been over the course of the day, nothing was visibly wrong. His father appeared to have outdone himself this time in terms of detail. Every last connection was in the right place, right down to the bends, as pictured in the books...

He wiped his sweaty, furrowed brow. He'd been through a few different manuals, not bothering with how to reset the clocks or operating the memory seats, always searching in detail over operations critical components, the engine, fuel system, battery system...by all standards, the Mark 13 was in impeccable condition, extremely impressive condition considering its age and its heavy use. Fox picked up the engine casing he put off to the side and started working it back into position, beginning to cease his efforts. He thought of calling it quits for the day, perhaps looking up some information on the net...

_ I don't get it...I checked everything. Hydrogen's good, generator's looking great, all the propulsion systems check out...where is it going wrong?_

Musing on what he'd seen over the past several hours, something failed at a critical pathway. If it was just the magnetic pods and propulsion, the engine would still start. If it was the primary engine, the starter engine would still be doing something besides whine. The cover snapped into place with a solid click. He shut the hood, the struts squeaking under the weight, over the low ca-chunk. He looked long and hard at the vehicle still in front of him.

_ It's something in the very beginning of the start up sequence..._

He walked back over to the still open door and settled into the driver's seat again. Pulling out the keys, he stuck it in and turned it already knowing it wouldn't start...but it still whined quietly. Something was at work...the electrical system must've been active. To confirm this he pressed the switch for the marker lights. These didn't need the engine on like the headlights, being meant for marking your corners when you were parked on a dark, foggy night alongside the road. Sure enough, all of the turn signals turned on and remained steady, adding an amber tinge to the surrounding walls until he shut them off.

_ So he didn't screw up the battery connection, that's for sure..._

He teethed at his lower lip and started to lean back in the seat. What could possibly allow for the rudimentary function of the electrical system, but at the same time not allow for the starter to function...that was something about the cars from the Central continent in the years past, the electrical systems were always rather idiosyncratic.

Slouching, he began to slip down to get comfortable. His kneecap hit the steering column with a hollow thud. He yelped in pain and quickly shot back up in his seat, rubbing away the worst of it.

"Oww, son of a..."

He gritted his teeth and swallowed his words. It wasn't that bad. Now that he thought about it, his father always did the same thing...they were both a bit clumsy at times when it came to being near the imposing console. He glanced at the steering column, then the ignition next to it...his wondered about it. If it was in the start up sequence...logically there was a problem in the ignition. Here was the ignition itself, the very first step in starting the Mark 13.

Forgetting about his pain, he began to feel about the steering column, trying to find something, anything. There had to be some way to access the mechanism of the ignition, for a mechanic to get in and fix the wiring, or for that matter, there had to be a way in for the guys that stole cars, otherwise the idea of hotwiring wouldn't even exist as it still did. He ran his hands up and down the column, feeling only smooth plastic initially. But as he got towards the base of the column, he felt a cut in the plastic, and then a little depression with a tab, on the right and just under the ignition slot. He turned in the tight space and looked at what he found. There was a little plastic door marked in small embossed lettering "FUSE ACCESS".

_ Fuse?...As in, electrical fuse?_

Basic engineering from his first year came to mind. He knew there was a more complicated, technical explanation, but he remembered the very least that he needed to know, that a fuse in any system was used as part of the circuit breaker system, a means of keeping the electricity running through a system regulated. Something else he remembered was many more modern systems were configured so that if the fuse was not able to function properly, the system in question would not operate for the sake of integrity, in case of any large surges. It worked that way on some fighters, as well as some ground vehicles...

He pressed open the plastic latch and flipped open the door. There was a block of little black squares connected to various wires inside the steering column. There was one row of seven of these little black squares, presumably the fuses. They were all lined up perfectly, in the exact same position. He gently ran his fingers over all of them...one in the middle caught onto his finger. The slightest hint of a corner was sticking out.

_ ...No way._

It was the fourth block from the left. Touching it, it was jiggling a little, not fully seated inside its connector. He remembered from experimenting with fuse systems that some had extremely low margins for error...he carefully re-centered the fuse to its connector, now sticking barely half a millimeter away from the others. He pressed it in with the faintest click, and he closed the cover.

_ He must've tried this at some point...but..._

Fox figured it was worth trying. What the hell, he thought, may as well give it a shot. He pulled the keys out of his pocket for the umpteenth time that day, and went through the familiar motions of clearing away the keychain, sticking the key into its slot, and giving it a hard twist forward.

There was a rising whining noise from the starter engine. At the peak of volume, there was the loud roar of the main engine beginning to crank its cylinders before it purred in an idle. The RPM needle followed in fashion, rising quickly before leveling out near the "1". In the midst of all of this action, the gauges lit up a fiery red, the LCD readouts bearing numbers for time, odometer, and so on. All of the instruments across the cockpit lit up with the same red color.

His jaw was hanging slack. The Mark 13 was working again. Even as the main engine shut off to conserve fuel, he could still hear the idle humming of the electric motor. Hesitant, he checked the shifter to see if it was in neutral. Confirming this, he gingerly touched his foot to the pedal, and gave it a good press. The main engine quickly restarted and let out a pleasant growl.

Fox slowly reached to the key again, and shut off the car. He stared directly out front for a few minutes. He smiled. Then he chuckled quietly, the volume growing gradually. Then he was laughing so hard it felt like his muscles were going to tear away from his ribcage.

_ Dad...I fixed it...I fixed the Mark 13...you missed that one tiny little detail again._

He soon began to sob. His head went to the steering wheel again. Tears eventually cascaded down the leather. He finished what his old man could never quite get right, yet he wasn't around to enjoy it, the resurrection of his second favorite vehicle.

Fox sniffed and wiped away the tears from the wheel, not wanting to damage the leather, then wiped dry his face. He hastily got out of the car and went to the most comprehensive manual he found, also the most heavily use. He thumbed over to the section on electronics, one of the few barely touched sections of the book. Amidst the nonsense of programming radio stations and setting clocks, he found a word on the technical aspects. Sorting through replacing bulbs and audio specs, he found a short blurb on the fuses. It said that fuses had to be properly seated in their slot for the ignition system to operate properly, and had a warning that after an accident or if the steering column was heavily jarred, the fuses may have to be checked for proper seating because the connecters tended to be loose.

Over the years Fox had lost count of how many times his father had banged his kneecaps against the steering column. He sighed heavily and threw the book down on the workbench. His body began to shake with his quiet tearfulness. For some reason he found the whole sorry mess ironic, perhaps tragic. He ignored the pining of his stomach, the piece of leather that his tongue had become, and sulked to the master bedroom. Again he didn't bother to change into some sleeping clothes. He tossed the keys onto the dresser, and crawled under the covers, his muscles beginning to protest from crawling all over the car and the floor on an empty stomach. He comprehended this, and thought at least he could stay awake...the lowering sun outside the window would provide another distraction as well.

* * *

An empty, numb feeling was felt inside his body, yet he could feel wind on his face. Fox could hear it blowing by violently. He couldn't understand why...not until his vision came into focus.

He could see he was in the air, above a desolate landscape and in thick, yellowish clouds that seemed solid until he passed in and out of a few. He wasn't doing anything, no movements, barely even breathing. Yet he was flying over the scene at a high rate of speed, it was almost like being in the simulator without the buffer of the cold cage of steel and electronics. He hadn't ever been somewhere like this before, yet he still couldn't shake off a feeling of knowledge and dejavu.

_ ...No. This isn't possible._

Venom.

He heard the sound of his heart pounding away faster in his head, but he couldn't feel it inside. The tingle of anxiety crawled across his shell of a body. He couldn't be dreaming, he thought, he should've been awake, he should've been staring out at the setting sun and allowing for his muscles to complain. For that matter, there were no fighters engaged in the dance of combat, no lasers burning through the sky and air. Yet he found himself here flying high in the air...

A dull roar filled his ears suddenly, accompanied by the subtle tones of splitting air. He thought he recognized the sound, but Fox felt that too was impossible. It was much too close, much too loud to be an Arwing...even on flybys they weren't this intense.

Then he saw the glint of a metal object come up from below him, a familiar three pointed shape, quickly ascending towards him. He felt himself try and cover himself up as it came closer, afraid it'd keep on coming and he'd have to brace for a hit. His eyes shut and his skin tightened. Nothing happened. It stopped inches in front of him. He looked over his arms, and found himself facing an Arwing's canopy. Beneath the glass was a familiar head of rust colored hair, and the glint of sunglasses.

_ ...? Dad!_

Fox felt himself moving towards the side of the craft, and he could now get a better look. It was his father, just as he remembered. Graying hairs, sunglasses, calm demeanor and all. He could see his face scan across the horizon, occasionally conversing in the radio with the rest of the team, and eventually a curious glance towards one of the Arwings off his flank.

Suddenly there was a look of surprise on the face, and Fox felt himself jerked around as the Arwing made sudden maneuvers. In his peripheral vision, Fox could see the familiar shapes of Venomian fighters, their lasers streaking past. He could follow every move his father made, and somehow recognized everything that ensued in the dogfight...Fox stared on in horror.

"No, Dad, get outta here, Pigma's going to betray you, you'll be killed!"

Fox felt a burning in his throat as he tried to yell out to his father, but he couldn't hear himself. It was to no avail. He was still following his father's every move, dodging the lasers and flying through the fireballs of downed enemy fighters, the heat lashing out at him. Off towards the edge of battle, he could see the one Arwing that stood idly by and did nothing.

_ Oh no...no, not again, no! Dad!_

A streak of lasers flew past, too close for comfort. Fox could see his father yelling into his radio now. Then a moment of bewildered anger, followed by more yelling. They knew about Pigma now, how he sold out his own team. Then came the dizzying maneuvers of the Omega formation, flying all across the sky. As the enemy fighters came into sight, all movement ceased of the Arwing, as well as Fox. A great shadow loomed over top.

_ Oh my God, no, make it stop, make it stop!_

Fox could clearly see the large ship now, could see the green field enveloping his place in the sky. He looked down, and could see the resigned look on his father's face, a single tear tracing down his face as he looked down at the console to a familiar photo. His face was almost apologetic, and he muttered quietly into his radio. Fox looked up, an intense grip held on his throat, his heart thundering in his head, the chill of fear coming over every inch of his being. The gathering ball of light was growing bigger and bigger, almost at its peak.

He couldn't shut his eyes. He felt himself trying, but he still saw the impending death above, his betrayed father left for dead below. His skin was tingling, muscles tensed. Even though he couldn't feel his heart, he heard the throbbing, and felt in his outer body blood gushing through, parts of him shaking. The event was described as quick but it felt like his longest ordeal from here.

The ball of pure energy broke at the bottom, and a solid stream burst forth and straight at him with blinding light. The air around him rumbled before it was sucked towards the beam, and anything around him felt instantly ablaze with the heat of Solar. All over his body burned in intense, blinding pain. Yet he could still see the ship below him breaking apart at every seam. The pain continued to escalate, his heart not pausing, muscles seemingly tearing apart, and a soundless scream gouging at his throat. He could see nothing as everything went white.

* * *

Suddenly he felt his body again as it shot up into the air, his screams deafening him until his lungs were emptied, and he could make sound no more. His eyes shot all around him in fear. Everything was black, he couldn't see anything. Now he only heard the loud, non-stop beating of his heart in his head, the shallow sounds of his breathing on the brink of hyperventilation. He felt across his body an intense chill in his muscles, yet blood was throbbing through by the liter with every heartbeat. His skin was burning up, his fur felt drenched in wetness.

Slowly, his eyes adjusted. Fox could see he was still in the master bedroom. The dim glow of the clock told him it was about 11:40. His gaze shot towards himself, and he felt around, making sure he was intact. Everything was still there, although, his clothes were soaked through, as well as some of the sheets surrounding him. He could taste the salt of sweat on his dry lips. His mouth felt like sand, and yet he was still breathing uncontrollably.

Fox could feel his heart relaxing, the throbbing no longer ringing in his ears. His body began to shake as adrenaline drained away from his muscles. He could still barely control his breathing, but he knew where he was. He also knew what the dream had been all along, all these sleepless nights. A picture of his father's death, growing more vivid with time. His body fell back with a squish of wet cloth, eyes wide open and staring at the ceiling. He tried his very best to lay still, keep quiet, to wait for his body to stabilize itself.

His mind could not shake off the gravity of what it had conjured. There was a tingling feeling in the corner of his eyes, fluid welling up. His chest lurched once, then twice. He shook his head in denial, refusing to go through this again. But his mind couldn't make order out of the chaos, failed to bring calm to the storm of thoughts, a tempest of emotions and failed understanding.

The tears flowed from his eyes, and he opened his mouth and let free his cry of dismay, of mourning, devoid of hope. His hand clawed at the pillow his head rested on. He turned to his side, and the sobbing rattled his very core. He started to curl into himself to try and gain control, but he still shook everywhere, tears adding to the soaked face and bedding. No coherent thoughts formed in his mind. It was a massive demonstration of emotion, leaving his body exhausted once more. A deep, high pitched breath penetrated his lungs. He shook his head, and an eerie combination of crying and a bitter laugh broke out.

"Why," he whispered to himself and to the fates, "Everywhere I go...I can't be left alone...why? Why me? ...What wonderful luck...pick on someone your own size, you bastards..."

The attitude failed him. He sobbed again, his body beginning to go numb, vision blurring, thoughts slowing...

"NO!"

Fox's eyes shot open again, his body thrashing until he tumbled out of the bed, landing hard on the floor. He yelped in pain, and was left groaning in soreness in a writhing ball. He hit his hip. It hurt but at the same time...he was alert now. Awake. He could ward off the dangers of sleepiness for at least another few minutes. But what to do next...the pain would eventually dull away. His mind scrambling in this sudden state of awareness, he thought of coffee, sugar, noise, anything, now that he was outside of the trap of bed. He limped up onto his feet, scrambling downstairs, seeking any distraction.

With clumsy movement he made his way down the stairs and through the living room. He fumbled with the switches on the television and the radio, blaring late night talk and rock music respectively. Neither was understandable, it was all a blur of light and sound to him, not taking hold in his conscious mind. He could feel the weight on his eyelids again.

_ No good, need something more._

He ran into the kitchen, drawers starting to fly open as he looked for he-didn't-know-what, something to keep him awake. Coffee? Sugar? Just something to fiddle with? Various items clattered to the floor as he tried to get a grip on something, anything. He didn't know what was in front of him, nor did he even feel the pricks of fork tips and the like. His hands only continued shuffling through drawers, throwing them to the floor if he didn't find anything. His mind still dazed, he was attempting to smack himself awake with minimal effect. He tore through another drawer, this time getting a grip around something that had a thick, plastic handle. Fox pulled it out, more clattering as the object caught on something and came loose. The blade of a chef's knife glinted in the light of the television that was still running.

Something about it made him pause in his rampage. He looked around him, saw the senseless circle of cutlery and the like laying on the floor in the same dim glow. He paused…he lost sense of what he was doing, why he was down here, let alone why he was tearing out all this cutlery…

Sleep. He remembered he was trying to escape sleep and the nightmares. The nightmares that haunted him for weeks, becoming worse each night. A feeling of desperation filled the air as the scene around him sunk in. It was quickly replaced with a combination of anger and shame towards the fact he'd been reduced to whatever he had turned into.

Fox screamed. The anger had taken control. His first reaction was to throw the knife down to the ground. His hand reached high in the air and arced downwards, letting the blade go as it shimmered in the low light. Suddenly, he felt a prick in his arm, moment's before the knife clattered onto the tile. It didn't matter though. He stood there, breathing heavily and closing his eyes, trying to center himself once more.

He realized his left wrist was tingling. He didn't know why, but somehow it felt…pleasant, almost as if a massive amount of pressure was released and his muscles were relaxing, the anger dissipating. For once, he was actually feeling a little bit better…a few moments later, he felt something wet in that same spot.

Fox opened his eyes again, and brought his wrist close to him, squinting to see. He saw that his fir was dampened…he ran a finger across the area. It was warm…and he felt where his skin was sliced open. A glance down at the knife at his feet confirmed a reddish tint on the tip. His arm caught the blade on its travel downwards.

"Shit!"

Panic reigned. Fox's right hand clamped down on the cut, trying to stop the flow of blood as he careened upstairs towards the bathroom. He fumbled for the touchpad and the faucet handle. Cold water ran from the tap, washing over his wound, leaving a stinging feeling. Red blood and water gathered in the bottom of the sink, swirling around before washing down the drain.

His heart slowed and his breathing quieted as he got a hold of himself. He dried it off, opened up the medicine cabinet and tore off a piece of gauze and some medical tape to patch it up. Basic first aid that came to him as instinctively as his reaction. It only took him a few moments to finish the bandage. He let out a sigh and leaned against the wall behind him, sliding down until he hit the floor...he realized the tension was returning, the frustration rising. Something disturbed him. He thought back to when the blood was draining out of him and he didn't react to it until he consciously knew it. Before he knew he was bleeding, he felt...pleasant. In that moment nothing he actually felt alright. A paradox of feeling life when in reality it was draining from him...

Fox tucked into himself. He sobbed quietly.

"What the hell is happening to me..."

* * *

The garage door had thankfully opened quietly. That made it less likely that anyone would notice his departure at this hour of the night, roughly one in the morning. He cried for a long time, not so much because of his father, but more because of what he was being reduced to. A desperate kid thrashing out for a solution, any solution, to a problem that he had let become bigger than him, overwhelm him.

For the time being, Fox decided he needed to stop thinking so much, and he once again sought escape. He had grabbed the keys to the Mark 13 and left with little more than an old flight jacket, a pair of jeans, and some old sneakers, having no regard to the weather. He didn't care.

The engine started with a brief electric whine and a roar as it did before. Tentatively gripping the wheel, he made up his mind and shifted the car into reverse. Not a soul was on the snow covered streets. He closed the garage door as he backed out, and as quietly as he could, made his way out of the neighborhood, onto the surface streets, and eventually to the freeway. As he made his way, the number of cars increased, and the roads appeared to be more well traveled. Even at that hour, there were plenty of drivers out. The city never slept.

He got onto the on-ramp, and onto the freeway that ran upwards into the skyline, intertwined among the skyscrapers and beyond in an intricate web of constant activity. Driving was a flood of the sense, especially in the Mark 13. He felt the solid magnetic link of the pods to the road as he took the corners without slowing down, the smell of the night air as it rushed past his face, the subtle but pleasant vibrations of the engine running and the car moving through the air which he could feel through the steering wheel, and the pleasant sound of the engine humming ever so distinctly from the rest of traffic.

Tonight, however, it was not about experiencing the zone where the driver became one with the machine. Fox felt somehow drawn to a place out beyond the city limits, where the trees began to outnumber all else, where the stars were the light. Lake Corneria, the largest body of water within the Central continent, and also a very heavily preserved government park. He'd been there many times before with his family during his childhood. It didn't make sense even to him why he would go there, but he felt he should. He eventually found himself on the main freeway, heading east. As the distance from the city grew, the buildings grew smaller until they became nothing. The lights became fewer until it was just the odd headlight along the way. Inversely, trees began to become more looming. The stars seemed to multiply in the sky before Fox's very eyes...

He turned off the highway, the Mark 13, the biting wind, and the stars his only companions out there. No one else was out there, and the park was technically closed. No one camped during the inter, and as it was few came out. Not enough space for a snowball fight, no fish to catch, and infamously thin ice on the expansive lake.

Fox saw the cheap chain-link fence appear in the beams of his headlights, the iced over wire glowing an eerie blue color. The car wasn't holding as stably now. The roads were rudimentary as it was, and the interference of the snow and ice didn't help any. The air brakes blew, the pods redirected the magnetic force. The Mark 13 came to a stop and he shut off the engine.

He shivered, the cold air finally catching up to him. He didn't know the temperature. Fox didn't bother with the locks as he left, feet trudging through the packed snow. The sneakers he threw on offered no protection. His feet were quickly soaked and freezing. It didn't matter to him. He kept walking on around the gate anyway, thankful for the lax security.

It was about a quarter mile walk to the parking lot he was heading for, the one he was so familiar with, the one that had a viewing overlook perched on a small cliff above the lake. The road varied very little. He didn't like the monotony. It gave him too much opportunity to remember. It was like the neighborhood park: camping, picnics, swims, the occasional boat ride. Many things from over the course of his life. Then he wondered why it bugged him so much. Guilt for taking those times for granted? Honest suffering from the lack? What? Why?

The tears came again, a frosty trail forming across his cheeks. He wanted to hit himself at that moment. Why the weakness? Why did he feel like this? He didn't know what to blame. Himself for being weak in some way, or fate for being such a sadist? He didn't know. He really didn't care. His mind only said one foot in front of the other, ignoring the numb toes and the burning lungs. His heart was but a hardened rock, worn callous by the burning and grating experience of emotions.

Fox's arms tightened around him, almost reaching into himself for warmth or sanity. It was to no avail. He felt cold to his very core, yet his body felt like an empty shell. He wondered how he could feel so much and so little all at once.

The pavement gleamed before him, the trees opening into the open lot. The overlook was another couple hundred feet ahead. One number foot in front of the other, several slips in-between. Along the way he fell hard on his hip. It burned with pain. He didn't care. He fell on his face a few steps later. More pain, cool blood dripping off his muzzle along with the bitter taste of copper. He didn't care.

His feet found the snow eventually, albeit dis-coordinated. He walked like a torn ragdoll, half limping half collapsing up towards the railing. He almost fell again, but he caught the railing, somehow finding grip on the slick ice. The lake wasn't the clear blue waters from his memory, the sunlight gleaming from many points non existent. What lay before him as far as he could see was a flat plain of ice, with the dull, uniform glow of the moon. A very depressing contrast, one he supposed appropriate. No happy faces. No boats, waves, or so much as a bird. Just a cold, dead, nothing.

Fox didn't react to the idea as it passed through his mind. Such things seemed to have been his status quo lately. The last time he so much as genuinely smiled and wasn't just being hysterical was weeks and weeks ago. He thought of it as a matter of fact rather than a problem at that moment.

He looked over the railing, down at the glowing, transparent ice. There seemed to be nothing but empty space below it. It seemed quiet. Perhaps peaceful at first glance. Nothing was there. Fox stared intently.

_ It's total...peace. Nothing there. Nothing to stop me from taking it..._

He stood up, and with great effort climbed over the railing, standing on the cliff's edge now. Once more, he stared into the void, wondering now what he should do with it. As he paused, memories begam to seep in, sounds of summer's past beginning to ring, and his eyelids drooping, a precursor to sleep and its realms.

_ Never again._

Fox leaped forward. He felt nothing underneath him. For but a moment he was suspended in the air. Suddenly, the wind began to rush past, biting into his flesh. The ice grew closer.

Then, a hard smack in the face. Dry cold became a saturating freeze as the icy fingers of the world underneath embraced him. It surrounded his body, soaking him. The ice left in his wake floated about him. Eventually, the cold faded, and he was warm. He felt camp. He felt peace.

_ It's...over...now..._

His mind quieted, his body loosened in the new warmth, and euphoria flowed over his being. He felt the faintest smile forming. Soon, it all faded to black...

TO BE CONTINUED


	10. Chapter 9: Crash

_There is but one truly philosophical problem, and that is suicide._

_ -Albert Camus  
_

Chapter 9: Crashing

There was nothing but black, yet there was something there. There was air blowing past...he could hear its quiet whispers...He didn't feel anything, it was as if his body wasn't there. But he still had his mind about him, still thinking, still wondering, still trying to figure out just what was going on. Was this the other side? Was it just him and his soul now?

No...he just felt something move, a part of him. No, he still had a body. He could feel muscles shifting, a back, shoulders, arms, legs, all parts of him moving just a little. He could feel beyond his body too...his fingers slid over a wet, grainy thing. His eyelids twitched. His vision went from black to a blinding white light.

Fox's hand shot up over his face as his eyes adjusted. He began to see a bright gray sky and clouds. His eyes widened in surprise and he sat up, the sound of movement reaching his ears, the grainy stuff shifting even more. He looked down, and saw snow, and somewhere he heard moving water.

_Is this...heaven?_

He looked out in front of him, straining his neck to see, and his eyes finally focused...he saw a path of water cutting into a plane of ice, broken fragments floating about. The path ended several feet out, where many cracks grew out of a hole. It was a frozen lake that seemed too familiar to him, but he couldn't figure out why he was there of all places. A conjuring of his past to help him cross over? Suddenly, he felt jolts of pain course through his body, and he felt biting chills crawl across his skin. It wasn't heaven. Somehow, he found himself in hell, burning in its cold fires. Was this because he tried to take his own life? Was hell actually cold instead of hot?

His body curled up, shivering from the freezing temperature, exacerbated by dampened fur. He couldn't stay still, for his bruised body kept writhing about trying to find comfort, pain superseding any numbness. His rattled mind tried to figure out what was happening. At the moment he couldn't remember why he was here in the first place, nor figure out why he was bruised and freezing at the edge of a lake. In his weakened state, he slowed down, and he could think.

The night before came back. He had tried to end his own life in a desperate attempt to stop the pain. He thought he could quietly drown in the freezing cold lake, and he was sure he had passed out...why was he still alive? Jumping into that water under the ice...he should be dead.

But he wasn't. What happened? He was still now, his eyes staring out over the lake...he must've floated back up through the fragile ice, and the undercurrents pushed him through to the shore...he was wearing a pilot's jacket too. It was right in its element, keeping an unlucky sap warm when he bailed out of a bad situation and into cold water, whether he liked it or not. His toes and fingers were numb, probably frost-nipped, but his core was still warm...

_Damn..._

Fate was still toying with him apparently, dragging out his miserable existence. On the other hand, what could he expect. Fate always worked in the opposite of his desires lately. If he wanted to live, his spirit was continually shattered to pieces. If he wanted to give up and die, he was saved to the bare minimum. Perpetual misery on both sides of the same coin. He was still in the same incarnation of hell he was trying to escape.

_Delightful._

Life seemed to him a fixed game, and he couldn't just cash his chips. Surprise, surprise. Nothing real new about that, more or less a statement of the obvious at this point. SNAFU as an Army grunt might refer to it. Situation Normal, All Fucked Up. In any case, he was standing in the freezing cold at the edge of a lake doing essentially nothing. He could die eventually, although, he didn't feel like waiting, and it didn't seem as if another jump in the lake would yield better results.

_The hell with it. _

Fox turned around and made the long walk through the snow once again. It looked as if the snow accumulated over the night, the slush soaking as high as his knees now. It didn't bug him any, he could barely feel it. Not even waterlogged sneakers could be noticed by his numbed toes. He wasn't even trying to brush snow out of his stinging face as the wind blew it at him. Several minutes later, he found himself at the Mark 13, now with a layer snow from the night all over the interior. It wasn't until he was done cursing and clearing the snow out of the Mark 13 and starting the engine did he begin to rationally think about what had happened.

_Jesus Christ...I just tried to kill myself. _

It was a very quiet drive back to the house. Even the engine, the wind, his own breath, the whole world in fact, seemed to be in stunned silence. Maybe even God Almighty didn't see it coming. Who could ever suspect Fox McCloud, son of James McCloud, to ever desire death, especially by his own hand? To just give in and run from his demons? He surprised himself, even, in having calculated whether it was worthwhile to try again. It was a disturbing thought...to be a stranger to even yourself now. Maybe someone did die last night. Fox McCloud could never be the exact same Fox McCloud as he was known before. Not after this.

It seemed like just another weekday morning. It was roughly half past ten when he was pulling into the garage. He missed the morning commuter rush on the freeways and some younger kids were already outside and back to their imaginary wars. The snow was falling gently. On the surface, just another ordinary day in Suburbia.

He drove back into the garage without any further fanfare, almost like he'd only went to the grocery for that gallon of milk he'd been meaning to get. Quietly, he shut off the engine and got out of the car, then quickly into the house after hitting the door button. He kicked off his shoes towards the front door, then tossed his keys with a clatter onto the end table near the couch which he eventually flopped his body into. Staring out into the space of the white ceiling, he found his body suddenly spent of energy. His mind felt the same way, yet he couldn't help but keep on thinking, over and over again...

_I tried to kill myself...I seriously tried to kill myself..._

He weakly rubbed his tired, red eyes.

_What's happening to me...why can't it just stop..._

He sighed.

_Shit..._

It was quiet for several minutes. His faint breathing and the slow beat of his heart became particularly clear, almost disturbingly clear, echoing from inside of him. Dust danced in columns of light coming through the windows...It was interesting to him how something that was essentially lifeless, even consisting of dead skin cells at times, could have such movement, such liveliness. It seemed more lively than even snow, snow that while so cold, still was a form of that precious blend of hydrogen and oxygen that supported life.

Yet here, something dead floated so wildly through the air. Perhaps...the snow moved the way it does because it is confident and full of life. The dead dust was subject to drifting aimlessly because of the fateful winds that controlled its existence, and it did this because it could not carry itself forwards. But at the same time, it still seemed to resist in such ways to be pitiful. Was this what he was? A dead, fearful, pitifully resistant speck in the grand scheme of all things, that thrashed wildly in an existence it could not control? Maybe so, having seen just how far he can spiral out of control...But on the other hand, he no longer even thrashed like the dust seemed to do, and now only rides with the wind. He couldn't even warrant pity at that rate. He accepted what he felt was his fate and no longer even contemplated resistance. He was deader than dead, deader than dust, barely even a shell of humanity...

There was a knock on the door. Fox almost jumped out of his seat, his tired mind jolted into action. Nothing happened for several seconds. He stared at the door. Did he actually hear that? He wasn't expecting anyone to come by. It's been too many weeks for it to be the newsies, door to door sales were close to non existent even in the warmer months, and everyone he knew was supposed to be out of town, or at least they planned to be away. He groggily got out of the couch, another couple harder knocks sounding as he dragged his feet forward. Clumsy fingers worked the lock mechanisms, and he opened the door slowly.

"Heeeey! Merry Christmas, Bro!"

A pair of arms suddenly wrapped around him, heartily slapping him on the back and almost knocking him off his feet. Fox was startled, but didn't do anything in response. Somehow this seemed familiar to him, something from many a gathering and parties and general screwing around, and the greeting was the kind he'd only hear from...

"Bill?"

"What, it hasn't been that long man, forgetting your buds already?" Bill said with a laugh, leaning against the door frame to take off his boots. He looked very pleased to be in some civilian clothes for once, his usual jacket, jeans, Corneria Comets football sweatshirt. He set a colorfully wrapped box off to the side.

"What's going on, I thought you were off doing volunteer guard duty at the Academy," Fox mused as he stood stock still, staring out into space.

"Yeah, it took me by surprise myself. This Army company out of Katina, they just flew in today on leave. Some of their boys volunteered to give us kids a break and lets us go home early, their version of a Christmas present." He chuckled again. "They really don't care how they're spending the holidays, long as they're back on Corneria."

Bill tossed his shoes in the closet, picked up his box, and walked on in. It was customary, Fox's house was practically his home too. Ever since they were kids, they'd be going back and forth between each other's houses every chance they got, going on their little adventures or playing video games. During the long breaks this could go on for days on end. Fox still didn't move, still dazed by Bill's arrival. Usually by now he was over in the kitchen getting some snacks and sharing the latest gossip, what was really funny that week, which class was a total pain in the ass lately, who was looking absolutely gorgeous at physical training the other day, Bill's latest date and Fox's lack of one (a friendly exchange of insults), things to that effect.

But not today. Fox was still staring out the front door. He should be happy, at the very least pleasantly surprised. He wasn't feeling it though. Everything felt different...what are you supposed to do when you're ready to roll over and die, and your best friend is over? Some people say its easy to just put on a mask and go through your day. Some people do it all the time. But how do you try and look normal, or at least as normal as a mourning person can be, to someone who's known you most of your life?

"Hey, Fox, you finally see the girl of your dreams out there or what?"

A shot in the arm, back to reality. Startled, his eyes shot off towards Bill, who was putting the box on the table and putting his coat on a chair.

"Huh? No, nothing at all."

Bill was about to speak and suddenly paused. This was the first time in ages Fox didn't say anything sarcastic like he usually did. Bill just chalked it up to being cooped up and upset lately...he waved towards the door.

"Well, hey, it's real cold out man, better close that door before we freeze to death."

"Sure." Fox shut the door and locked up. _'...It's really not that bad though...'_

"Oh, hey, I haven't eaten anything all morning, you mind if I grab a bite?"

Fox shrugged.

"My fridge is your fridge, you know that."

Bill chuckled again.

"Yeah, that's right...I never really learned that..."

Bill set the box on the counter top and started by opening the fridge, quickly giving up when he found it empty. He started flying through the cupboards and skimming over the various MREs and other odd packaged goods.

"Sooo...what've you been doing all this time?"

"...Not much, just...sleeping, grabbing a bite now and then-"

"What, you living off light now?" Bill jibed as he shut another relatively empty cabinet.

"No...I just manage, I haven't been that hungry lately anyway." Fox was telling the truth, more or less.

"Really?"

"Yeah...oh, I got the car running too."

Bill stuck his head out of the cupboard suddenly.

"Now I know you're crazy, that thing went kaput years ago."

Fox shook his head.

"Nope, it's running..." He laughed in quiet irony. "Dad...good ole lack of details Dad...knocked a damn fuse out of place and never checked it. Go figure."

"Damn..."

Bill stood quietly for a few moments, stunned by this change that had seemed to be fundamental fact just a moment ago. Before long though, he'd forgotten and stuck his head into another cupboard, another fruitless search, another few moments of standing around with silence before he said anything else.

"Hey, did you take it out yet?"

"Hmm? Take what out yet?" Fox had zoned out again.

"The car, man, your Dad's car."

"Oh, yeah, yeah...I drove it out to the lake."

"This time of year?"

"Yep."

"...How was that?"

"Just the frozen over lake, lots of snow, plenty cold, what can I say?"

"Right..."

As Bill went right back to the cabinet, finally finding some interesting MREs, Fox sneezed suddenly, startling the both of them. Blinking the tears out of his eyes, he rubbed his nose and grabbed a tissue from the kitchen counter, filling it with a loud honk. He tossed the sopping mess into the garbage, yawning as he leaned against the counter.

"Got yourself a cold, Fox?" Bill inquired.

Fox shrugged.

"I guess so...got pretty cold last night..."

"Well, yeah, it has been the dead of winter lately, that usually happens," Bill quipped.

"Yep..."

Another awkward silence. Neither one of them said anything, and the only sound in the kitchen was the quiet buzzing of the lights, the repeated opening and closing of closets, and the occasional grumble from Bill. After awhile he threw his hands up in frustration and went back to another closet he already looked in.

"Fuck it, I'll just grab one of these energy bricks here."

"No problem, got plenty of em."

Bill looked at Fox for a few moments, eying him for a moment with a curious glance. He turned around and grabbed one of the energy bar rations, tearing it open and starting to gnaw on it with his molars as he shut the cupboard.

"Bill?"

"Hunh?" Bill had his jaw around a good inch of the cold, hard bar that was, as he called it, a brick.

"Why the funny looks?"

Bill was finally able to tear off a chunk and talked around it.

"Dude, I wasn't giving you funny looks."

"Bill, you were fucking looking at me like I had grown an extra arm or something," Fox said with a very level look, his voice becoming terse.

Bill swallowed and set the bar on the counter.

"No, I wasn't, aren't I supposed to make eye contact once in awhi-"

"I'm fine God-dammit! Nothing's wrong, ok?!"

"Whoa-whoa-whoa, calm down man!" Bill exclaimed wide-eyed as he threw his hands up in front of him. "Jesus, I never said anything was wrong, ok? I'm not accusing you of anything here."

Fox opened his mouth for a retort, beginning to form "bullshit". He paused, and closed it. Bill was right. He never did say anything, all he did was look at him differently. Fox supposed this was fair...after all, normally when they were together they were nibbling on all the food that was around them, laughing, talking, generally having a good time. Life was good then...it didn't feel that way right now. The atmosphere felt cold, hollow, distant, anything but the warm, welcoming feeling of being with your best friend. He sighed...

_No...something is wrong...it's all gone wrong...what's left of me?_

He stared at the counter, turning thoughts over in his mind. Bill had picked up his energy bar and was leaning against the cabinets, still gnawing away. There was dead silence. It wasn't the kind of silence where two people have a conversation stop because there's nothing further to say, those weren't so bad. One eventually thinks of something to say that starts yet another train of thought, or else both people are content just to have each other's company. It was more of a silence of two people trying to figure out what the other was thinking, dodging one another whilst trying to tactfully decipher what was really going on, at least that's how it seemed to Fox...he wondered what Bill was doing there anyway. Usually Bill would call ahead, say he was free and was wondering if they could hang out or eat or whatever. It was just his M.O. to do that out of courtesy. He didn't do that this time. He just showed up at the door, not any warning whatsoever. No maybe I'll drop by if I get time off, no quick e-mail, nothing. What was Bill there for anyway? Fox never did get a clear answer on that.

"...So, seriously, I know you didn't drop in just because you happened to be in the neighborhood, right?"

Bill paused for a moment in his chewing, looking off to the side. He wasn't really expecting to be asked so directly. He swallowed, pausing for a moment with his mouth slack as he picked his words.

"Well...yeah, that's fair."

Fox nodded slowly.

"Yeah...you've always headed home to your folks, do all the usual Christmas-y things."

Bill quietly chuckled around the last hunk of the ration. He crumpled up the wrapper and went for a shot to the trashcan. It went in quietly, very definitively landing square in the center.

"Woot, two points. Yeah, you're right. Hey, can I-"

Fox waved a hand towards an upper cupboard.

"You know where the cups are, Bill."

"Right, right..." Bill turned and opened the cupboard, pulling out a simple clear plastic tumbler. He swung over to the fridge and got some water, gulping the cold stuff down just as fast as he filled his cup. "You're gonna think I'm spewing bullshit, but, Dad went and got some reservations for him and Mom at this nice lodge in the mountains, full honeymoon suite with the champagne and chocolates, ya know? Major surprise gift."

"Jesus, I thought your Dad didn't like to splurge."

Bill laughed.

"Hey, 20 years they've stuck tight despite his chintziness. So, I guess it was either that or get kicked out to the curb, ya know? Gotta lick the boots of the real commander now and then."

"Right, right...your mom always liked it fancy..." Fox mumbled, recollecting memories. He always happened to be around when Bill's mom was yelling at his dad about getting some odd thing replaced or fixed, then Mr. Grey would just mumble it was working fine or he liked the old thing better.

"Yeah...grew up the Colonel's daughter, married the up and coming son of a Sergeant." Bill laughed, but it was quickly stifled and his face became flat and somber. "Anyway, Dad said a few days ago to go and have myself my own merry little Christmas." He smiled and shook his head, quietly laughing. "Jesus, Dad...Said he was going to be busy lighting up the tree, unwrapping gifts, things like that...God, way too much information." His face became even more somber. "So, seriously...I thought I'd come visit you, see how you were doing...drop off a little present, hang out, ya know? Like usual?"

Fox nodded slowly. His face was flat, not one crease of a muscle showing any emotion.

"Gotcha..."

Like usual...Fox thought about that for a moment. Nothing could be like usual. Not anymore. In fact, the definition of usual is one of the most subjective definitions in existence, varying for each and every person in existence. For one person, the usual might be sitting in the back seat of a Welsley-Edwards super-luxury car, regularly having prime rib and potatoes at the finest restaurants, where survival meant sweet-talking that one important client, getting the next contract, and still getting the butler to pick up the dry cleaning on time. For others, the usual might be walking the streets unless they had the luxury of some change or being in a free zone for the bus, digging through dumpsters in search of even half a day old hamburger or a couple of fries, and survival meant the very most starkest definition, curling up under a tattered rag on a sheet of cardboard and hoping it didn't snow that night if the shelter wasn't an option, and praying for a miracle, even if it was just a in the form of ragged old jacket.

The usuals had been redefined for him. Usual family, him and his father, became just himself. Usual mood, fair to jubilant, became a steady variation between blue and now outright suicidal. Usual relations to friends, once the usual guy stuff and being as brothers, now a game of tactful exchanges and hiding. His father was dead. He was depressed. He was hiding from his friends. The new usual as he saw it.

He sneezed again. Now he had mediocre health as well, along with a side of the ridiculously elaborate philosophical muses he had two or three times in one morning.

"Dammit...that one kinda stung," Fox mumbled as he rubbed his nose, blinking as his eyes teared up from the tingling, still musing. _'Jesus...could write a fucking book of thoughts, sell like crazy to the yuppies. Existentialist incarnate.'_

"Dude, don't you have any cold meds?" Bill asked, getting a little smart-alecky.

Fox laughed.

"How the hell should I know...barely took stock of the kitchen, haven't gone shopping all this time."

"Well, go look, you're looking miserable."

Fox ignored the smart comment.

_If only you knew, Bill..._

"Ok, ok, fine, I'll look in the cabinet upstairs, you go ahead and stuff your face, I haven't been eating any of that lately," Fox mumbled, smiling weakly.

"Yeah, sure..."

Fox turned and walked across the living room, leaving Bill in the kitchen rummaging through all the cabinets yet again to decide between some old candy or dehydrated goods. Medicine was one of the things he hadn't checked on, he figured everything was probably still in the shelves behind the mirror, like always. Fox staggered up the stairs, dragging feet across the lands, the sound blending in with the rustling of wrappers being town open in the kitchen. Some parts of the usual didn't change.

He made a sharp turn into the bathroom, and flicked on the cold, white light. He squinted, not having had a lot of bright light to deal with lately. Slowly, his eyes refocused, and he blinked out the spots in his eyes. As he reached for the mirror to check the medicine cabinet, he got the first look at his face he'd had in a long time.

_...Jesus. _

There were dark, sagging bags under his bloodshot eyes, red around blue making an eerie purplish tone in his eyes. His facial fur was in need of a trim, leaving his face rough. His hair was cow-licked or matted in patches, and it could very easily be assumed he hadn't had a good shower in several days. Baring his teeth from behind chapped lips, they were yellowed, and being in the confined space, he wasn't smelling all too fresh either, especially still being damp. Exhaustion, physically, emotionally, and spiritually, showed in his tired face, the half frown, and this look in his eyes that could only be described as hollow. He couldn't remember ever looking so haggard and unkempt, not even after field training.

_...Makes sense now, the way Bill stared at me_.

He looked like shit. There was no other way to put it.

Fox turned on the water, and splashed himself in the face a few times, slicking down his hair as well. Taking another look in the mirror, it didn't prove to be of any effect. He looked like wet shit instead. He sighed, and dried off his face with the hand towel that was on the wall hook. Tossing it off to the side, he opened up the mirror and looked inside. The content situation wasn't much better than in the kitchen cupboards.

There was just half a tube of first aid ointment, a couple bandages, a few blister packs of painkillers, and a big bottle of emerald green liquid. As luck would have it, it just happened to be an economy sized bottle of night time cold medicine they bought at Priceco last winter, about the size of a commuter mug. He cracked a smile. Something went right for once. Meant to make one sleep with the proper dose...in great amounts, he figured, it should shut a body down entirely...he wasn't a pharmacist, but he thought it was a safe assumption, certainly not as traumatic an option. He dug his nail under the tight plastic wrap, eventually making a nick so he could tear it away. The child proof cap was all that stood between him and rest...

_...Well, about time. Cheers_.

He pushed and turned the cap, the scent of peppermint wafting from the bottle and clearing his nostrils, ironically as bittersweet as what he was about to do. The cap clattered as he dropped it in the sink, and his head shot back as he chugged the strong tasting liquid, the bottle draining quickly with each consecutive gulp. It wasn't too long before his tongue got used to the flavor, and he was able to drink it down faster, seeming more like a rather large cocktail drink flavored with liquor and mint and having a much more permanent intention than a bad hangover in the morning. Within fifteen seconds, he was sucking the last few drops out of the bottle, the syrupy stuff oozing down his esophagus, a pleasant burn left in his mouth, a chill in his nasal passages. He coughed a bit as he recovered some his sensations, shaking his head to clear out the tingling feeling that lingered.

_...That's that._

Fox stared at the mirror, not feeling any effects yet. He wondered how long it would take...waiting to die...something kind of surreal about it, he thought. A sense of finality, yet it seemed to drag on. Should he just stand here and keep waiting? No...that seemed weird. Besides, he'd been upstairs for awhile now, probably best to head downstairs so Bill wouldn't be inclined to snoop, wonder what the hell was going on.

Still unconsciously holding the bottle, he trudged out out of the bathroom, stifling a yawn as he turned the corner and navigated the stairs. He didn't hear anything from the kitchen, but the light was still on. As he got closer, he could see Bill with a couple of wrappers laying on the counter, apparently he had some cheese food and fruit candies.

"How is it?" Fox asked sarcastically.

"Like old MRE's. Dude, you need to do some shopping," he said through a mouthful of fruit candies.

"I'll get around to it."

"Sure hope so, you're gonna get scurvy or something at the rate you're going."

Fox shrugged.

"Not exactly the first thought on my mind."

"Oh really?" Bill mumbled with a snicker.

Fox slowly nodded, not having anything he wanted to add. He still wasn't in the mood for a duel of wits. Particularly since the sleeping drug seemed to be kicking in. His eyes were getting droopy. Fast. Not much longer. He never had the stuff work this fast before. Although, he never drank the entirety of an economy size bottle in an attempt to end it all either. New territory for him...Bill was in for a rude surprise, it just occurred to him...he kind of wished he held off until Bill left, although, that would've been quite some time. Oh well...call it a last hurrah of a prank, he figured. Not a whole lot of dry wit or even any kind of insult to it. Just a hell of a surprise. Still, the idea seemed amusing in a way. He yawned loudly, and his head drooped to within an inch of the counter before he roused himself briefly at the sound of something dropping. He looked down and saw the empty bottle of medicine near his feet. It occurred to him at that moment it would probably be best to try and be natural, not just suddenly pass out...while it made sense to him, it was still frightening to a degree that he was being tactical for such an occasion.

"Ah, right, need to toss this bottle," Fox mumbled as he picked it up, tossing it with a loud clunk into the garbage can.

"You letting your housekeeping go to hell as well?"

Another shrug.

"I've had other things on my mind." He snorted after he said that, realizing the irony.

Bill shook his head and smiled.

"Yeah, yeah...well, if you want me to help with anything, let me know, alright?"

"Sure."

There was a long pause. Neither of them said anything, nor did they think of it. Bill sighed and glanced at his watch.

"Well, it's getting past eleven...you wanna get something to eat, at the very least get some fresh air? I got my car."

Fox wasn't feeling very hungry. Just slow and tired. He didn't know what else to do though. He felt like he couldn't generate anymore thoughts, like his brain became lethargic and just sat there.

"...sure, why not."

"Alright, let's go." Bill started walking out of the kitchen to get his coat and shoes.

"Gimme a sec."

Fox pushed himself off the counter to get up. He felt like his body turned to lead. His eyelids drooped even more, and it was getting harder to keep them open. He shook his head, trying to get his himself jumpstarted.

_One step at a time...just gotta wait...might be less awkward...if...I..._

He took a couple of steps forward. After that, his legs wouldn't hold him up anymore and he collapsed. He wasn't even aware of this. Everything had gone black.

Bill turned around at the sound.

"Fox? Hey, Fox, you ok?!"

He ran over and shook him on the shoulder.

"Jesus man, I didn't know you were that worn out...hey, you there? Say something."

Fox didn't move. Bill shook him harder, and he still laid there, not even shifting around. Just laid there like a rag doll...Bill couldn't tell if he was still breathing. He grabbed Fox's wrist and checked the pulse...it was slow. Too slow.

"Jesus Chirst...Fuck!!"

Bill clawed at his pocket, pulling out his cell phone to call 911...

Fox still didn't get up or make a sound...

To be Continued


	11. Chapter 10: Cornered

"_Even if I say it'll be alright, still I hear you say you want to end your life."_

_- Never Too Late, Three Days Grace_

Chapter 10: Cornered

There was a familiar blackness engulfing him. This was all he could see. All he could hear was his own voice contemplating on this. He didn't feel anything else. His senses were limited to his own thoughts.

_'...is this it? Did it happen?'_

His thinking paused.

_'...am I dead?'_

If that was true, he couldn't even begin to describe what it was like…thoughts from across many philosophical readings in his liberal arts classes came to mind. He was thinking about it, so did he exist? Would he be reborn into the world as something else? Was there a greater consciousness to become part of? Or was he merely being cleansed or awaiting final judgment before his maker? There were all too many names to an even more infinite set of ideas for him to settle upon just one. He didn't care…for now he could at least be certain of one thing. He was still Fox McCloud. The world that was bearing down upon him disappeared. He could now claim his peace.

Suddenly, there some kind of light. He heard voices. Muffled, impossible to understand, and it sounded like it was from within him. But it sounded like the voices of people. Were there other people in this place? How did they come here to where he was? Fox didn't know. He felt that the voices were getting clearer as he focused upon them...he finally heard something that he could understand, an oddly familiar female voice.

_"With only two full days left until Christmas, last minute shoppers continue to crowd the malls, looking to finish their lists or pick out the last of the year's hottest gifts..."_

He was confused…whatever he heard didn't sound like anything he would have expect to hear in any spiritual realm. It didn't even sound the least bit pertinent…the back of his neck started to itch. Now his being was filled with sensations…he could feel a distinct body. Did he have a body? He paused…there was something fuzzy behind what he felt was his head…carpet? He could feel his eyelids now, burning with daze, faint light now visible. He opened them, expecting to see a pure white light, clouds and angels, something. Instead he stared at an all too familiar textured ceiling.

Splayed out on the carpet, Fox's eyes shot around only to see that he was still in his living room. Those voices he heard was the same cute newscaster with the soothing voice that he'd heard for the last several years. It was the same room, same stuff…except for the fact that Bill was on the couch, leaning back deep into the overstuffed cushions with his gaze fixed upon something beyond the screen.

_"…What in the hell?...I wasn't dead…I'm still here."_

With a grunt of effort and his head still spinning, Fox sat up and cradled his aching head, still very groggy from the cold medicine. He turned around, and his eyes met an icy stare from Bill. Bill's expression was very flat, not one hint of his usual, perpetual smile. Although it was only a short time, Fox felt that Bill's eyes drilled into him for eternity until Bill had turned away to turn off the television. Bill set down the remote and leaned back in the couch.

"So…had a nice nap there?" It was part question, part statement

"...I guess so…my head's spinning, what the hell happened?"

Bill shrugged.

"I don't know, how about you tell me?"

Fox felt a chill…Bill was coming off very accusatory.

"Wha…what do you mean?"

Bill sighed and leaned forward. He gave Fox a level look, his usually bright eyes now seeming dark.

"Alright…let's talk about this," he said, almost at a whisper. "So, I'm sitting here raiding your kitchen, you go upstairs and complain about being stuffed up. You went to check for some meds, we tracking so far?"

Fox nodded…he didn't like the direction the conversation was going…for that matter, Bill looked like he was letting loose with something he didn't want to deal with. Bill continued in the same matter-of-fact tone, hands waving around with every intonation.

"Sooo, you come down, we yak, you toss your trash, I say we get chow. We're getting ready to go…" Bill raised his hand and let it fall flat. "Boom, you're out cold…make sense?"

Another nod…

_No…he couldn't have…does he know? _

Bill paused and broke the steady gaze. He breathed deep and let his head hang for some time…he looked up again with glassy eyes and a deep frown.

"...I was damn close to calling 911…but right before I hit send, it didn't look like you had a heart attack or something. I panicked, what with the slow pulse and quiet breathing…you were sleeping. Real deeply too."

"…well, I was tired, we knew-"

Bill slammed his fist down on the armrest of the couch, causing Fox to jump. Bill's entire arm was shaking, his teeth gritted. Fox didn't have to ask anything else. He knew Bill caught on to something.

"Bill, what the-?!"

"You fucking idiot! Don't feed me that line!"

"What the hell do you mean?!"

Another angry pause. Bill's whole body was visibly shaking.

"You know damn well. When I was about to make the call…I thought what little breath you had smelled real off, even for cold medicine…" He paused. "I checked the bottle you tossed out…not one speck of dried up medicine on the cap, the seal was in there, and the inside of it was coated from top to bottom in residue…you drank the whole bottle."

Fox stared back in surprise…Bill knew for sure. He didn't say anything. Bill huffed, and his face came to rest in his hands.

"…Shit, Fox, are you really losing it that bad? Don't you have any sense left in you?"

Fox sat silently. It seemed to him as if Bill was all too aware of what Fox was trying to do. Suicide couldn't be conveniently explained away, and certainly made for awkward conversation material. Bill sighed, exasperated and looked up.

"…I know that stuff's weak, but damn it, they make dosages for a reason you know."

Fox's ears perked. That didn't sound so much like a "gotcha" phrase as it did a phrase of disbelief. Looking up into Bill's eyes, he could see the angry fire was gone, but he had the wet, tired eyes of a disappointed parent rather than that of a friend who was on to something big. Knowing Bill, he would likely have been more upset, maybe even pleading with Fox about the situation if he really knew. Bill's words sounded so far away…either he wasn't as perceptive as Fox just thought he was, or he was in denial. Most people don't easily entertain the idea that their best friend since childhood is trying to take their own life. It was all too easy for Fox to go along with that line of thought. To be honest with Bill, he felt, would've only caused more pain for everyone.

"Yeah, you're right...I wasn't thinking. Sorry."

Bill had no reaction. He was now staring at the carpet.

"Huh? Bill?"

Bill's eyes shot up quickly, he shook his head, and his eyes dipped down again.

"Eh…nothing, don't worry about me…it's just…" He sighed and rubbed his eyes before looking back, this time appearing almost sad. "Damn it…I've been worrying about you man…you've been having one hell of a time no doubt. I just…I've known you forever. I thought I've seen it all…but I guess I was wrong…even when we were little and your Mom…" He paused with an open mouth and a flustered appearance as he cut himself short, pushing away from the old wound. "Well, it feels like now I don't know if you're the same best friend anymore. You're right in front of me, but you're not actually there."

It felt like a brick landed in the bottom of Fox's stomach. He knew he probably looked different to the people that knew him. He just didn't know how different. Bill seemed to be searching for words himself.

"…Hell, Fox, we're all at least a little worried…I understand you probably need space...we all just want to make sure you come back to us."

Fox sighed and looked away again. They didn't speak for a long time. The air felt very heavy. The din of the lights was the only sound as the two sat with bated breath. Fox felt the knot in his throat begin to ravel, and he rested his head on his knees.

"…Shit, I'm sorry…"

Bill looked back for a moment, and looked away again. Fox dug deep for more he could say.

"I guess…I'm still trying to process all this crap on my own…Don't worry about me too much, ok? Not like I'm trying to go away for good."

Bill sighed deeply, leaning back in the couch.

"Hey that's fine…sometimes that's what it takes…" Bill stood up and started towards the front door. "You still need that time, right?"

Fox looked up at him, surprised. "Huh? But didn't you…well, I…" He stalled in his line of thought. He paused and stared blankly, before almost regretfully nodded his head.

Bill just shrugged. "Well…can't blame you, I'd probably do the same thing. That's why I asked." He started pulling on his shoes and grabbed his coat. "For what it's worth," he mused softly as he got one sleeve on, "I guess I need to work stuff out myself…this is all new for me too." He leaned back against the wall, sticking his hands in his pockets and looking at his feet. "…hey, Fox, can you just do one thing for me?"

"Huh?...Yeah, of course, whatcha need?"

Bill looked at Fox again…now his eyes looked pleading, quickly cutting deep to Fox before he had even said a word.

"Just…don't hesitate to call one of us for anything, ok? We're always here for you, bro...I hope you're back soon."

"…Thanks, Bill."

"Sure…hey, I put your present on the table. Don't cheat and open it on Christmas Eve, yeah?" There was a shadow of a smirk on his face for the first time since Fox came to. He turned to open the door. He tapped his brow. "Take care Fox."

"You too, Bill…."

The door clicked behind him, and he was gone. Fox was once again left to that old familiar feeling…himself and his thoughts alone together. He didn't know how to feel at that moment. He felt some twinge of warmth, and also great pangs of remorse, both as a result of the one visit…at the very least though, somebody cared. He only wished it was under happier circumstances.

He sighed, and looked over his shoulder at the table. The present Bill mentioned was there. It had no tree to wait under for Christmas Day. It wasn't so long ago Fox planned on not seeing that day…innate curiosity caused him to wonder, at least for a moment, what Bill had brought him. It was only for a moment. Soon he thought of the impact he was having on those around him, placing that factor into the big picture…he didn't know if it changed things all that much. It was nice to know, yet felt like another weight upon his shoulders.

At that moment, he was unsure what to do with himself. He told Bill that he still needed time to process…it felt like such a lie all of a sudden. What was there to process? Maybe it would've been more appropriate to say idling away, or killing time. Appetite still evaded him. Life on the outside still disinterested him. He still wanted to let everything go by right by him. Fox got off the floor and flopped onto the couch. Maybe what he really needed to process was what to do with this line that was being thrown to him from the outside.

Someone out there was now trying in some small way to get into his head. Was it the silver bullet he was seeking? Or was it merely a complication? Fox couldn't say either way. It may in fact be both of those, two sides of the same coin…two very different routes to be taken in the search for his peace. The shred of rationality he had had begun to whisper that he needed help. His raw emotions wanted everything to simply end. Fox threw his hands behind his head, and stared ahead into the sea of textured plaster, losing himself in its waves. He didn't know what happened to a person when their souls became crushed by such weight. Indecisiveness took possession of him, wrapping him in its cold chains. He hoped it would go like a bad case of writer's block…that something would click in the chaos and kick things into gear. Fatigue soon took custody of him as well, and he departed reality once more as the lids fell over his tired eyes.

* * *

A third unsavory companion came for him. It was that same old, familiar feeling. The same terrorizing dream had found him once more. The sanctuary of sleep was invaded, and solitude had run for itself. Fox couldn't run, and again lay paralyzed right where he had woken up on the sofa. Once more, his father died, trapped and vaporized far from home. Once more, Fox found himself coated in cold sweat and grasping at his head, eyes wide open and staring miles away beyond the lonely abyss. In the stillness of the dark room, everything around him gave cause for terror. The quiet drone of the heater and even the creak of the sofa may as well have been the cries of a terrible monster. With each sound, he would jolt violently before trying to burrow himself deeper into the cushions. His face became damp with tears as he sobbed quietly, afraid to try and rest again, afraid of what would come out of the darkness within. He shivered…he was still sweating in the cold air. His nerves were shot. He was surrounded by all around him and all within him.

He gave up.

He relinquished himself. A great weight was lifted, and Fox's body slumped easily out of the couch. His muscles found strength in adrenaline and desperation. Rationality had burned away. Fox stumbled through the dark house, tripping several times as he went up the stairs, heading towards the master bedroom and the closet that held his final solution.

He banged his shoulder tumbling into the room. He gave no heed, for he could no longer feel. He ran into the closet door, clawing at it to throw it open. The objects on the shelves were obstacles to be thrown to the ground until he found what he was looking for. A smooth carbon fiber case that held an angel named Mischler. It was no trouble opening the familiar steel latches. The magazines were already loaded with what he remembered to be hand loaded cartridges. There were no locks. His father had always trusted him in everything…even to make his own reality.

He threw the box onto the bed and grabbed for the contents. The pistol came out easily. He fumbled for the grip. The familiar rubberized surfaces fit like a glove, filling his palm. The magazine slipped out easily. He jabbed it several times into the grip, until he finally lined it up straight and slammed it into place. The magazine locked with a solid click. The gun felt heavy, and carried a sense of power that could overcome even fate itself. Fox grabbed the rear of the cold steel slide, and pulled it back effortlessly. He released it, the action cycling smoothly with the very noise of solidity typical of Germanic engineering. It always had been one fine weapon.

He clicked the safety off. His right hand was firmly pressing down the grip safety, his finger stroking the trigger and its safety. His left had picked up the suppressor in the case, and locked it onto the threaded barrel. Again, it locked in with authority. Fox was satisfied with this. He wanted this to be definitive. The barrel would be warm with a saving grace measuring at .45.

Fox hefted the weapon up with little effort. As hard as it had been for him to walk upstairs, it felt easy for him to heft the long pistol and wield it. His legs were weak, his insides burning with anxiety, his mind still fearful. He leaned his head to the left so he could hold the pistol straight, pressing the cold barrel to his temple. The cooling sensation numbed him further, providing a taste of the relief to come.

He smoothly squeezed the trigger halfway. The double action mechanism that kicked in on the first shot was resisting him. At this moment, there was but one pang of guilt. He never did talk to anyone about what he felt like he promised. There would be no note. Fox figured, however, that in the end, all the pieces would come together for those left behind…they would recover…they had their families, and each other. They would go on. The nightmares wouldn't follow him. He may see his parents again. Certainly, he would have his rest.

He felt something within him cry out again. The terror began to set into his mind again. He still hurt. Fox gritted his teeth, and channeled all the energy he had left to squeezing the trigger.

_'This is it.'_

There was no sound but a hush whooshing of gas. For a brief moment the sound of the action clicking echoed in the room. His temple burned.

_To Be Continued  
_


	12. Chapter 11: Acceptance

"_Now and again we just try to stay alive, maybe we'll turn it around cause it's not too late, it's never too late" –Never Too Late, Three Days Grace_

Chapter 11: Acceptance

He could still see the room.

He could feel his right temple burning.

He could smell gunpowder.

Fox didn't know exactly what would happen after he pulled the trigger. He only figured that he would be gone from the world, immersed in whatever came next, if anything. He reached up to his temple, and felt singed fur. There was no blood or wound of any kind. Something burned his fur, but no bullet came through. He was still in the same body, and presumably still in the same situation as before. His eyes widened in shock.

_*…What happened? What the hell happened?!* _

His hands trembled. The pistol was still in his right hand. Looking at it, there were wafts of smoke from the tip of the suppressor and the ejection port. He pulled the slide back, and an empty cartridge popped out, the hollow brass skipping with a tune on the wooden floor. The action didn't cycle itself…but the charge was spent. There had to have been some burning powder set off…he held the chamber up closer to his face and peer down the barrel through the ejection port…he could see no light. He realized then that the cartridge was a squib. The powder burned off…but the round came to a stop in the barrel. It was hand-loaded by his father…it wasn't the first time the old man didn't pour enough gun powder. There were many times at the range they had to tap a round out.

Fox's heart sunk into the pit of his stomach. His jaw went slack. Tears welled in his eyes as the icy feeling crept through his body once more. Yet his anger boiled over, his sense of control again leaving him, rendering him unable to decide his path, let alone cry out his despair as he weakly wimpered.

"God…"

He threw the gun down to the floor.

"DAMN IT!!"

He fell to his knees, sobbing loudly…He paused, and clawed for the pistol once more, unscrewing the silencer, then hitting the barrel against the floor, trying to dislodge the round. It wouldn't come out. He cried out again, and held the barrel to his head. It didn't matter if the barrel exploded. It would do the same job. He jammed it onto the same burnt patch of fur, gritting his teeth and fingering the trigger…

The gun dropped from his hand, quietly clattering before him.

He couldn't do it.

He fell forward, sobbing harder, quietly whimpering and pounding the floor.

"Damn it…damn it, why…WHY?!"

His fist came to rest in front of him. His chest hurt from heavy breathing, and he buried his dampened face into his arm. Through the tears and muffled curses, Fox's mind could make no sense out of the feelings that continued to eat away at him. Somehow, someway, he simply wasn't allowed to die on his own terms. Something out there wanted him alive…he could only imagine being kept barely alive...forced to many long years of living at the very edge of his own sanity. He saw in that a repeated cycle of recovery, the return of the dreams, reminders of the emptiness, a desire to end everything, and once more having the rug pulled out from under him.

Another scream was growing deep inside of him, but it wouldn't pour out from him. He could only cry and hiccup, like small child…like he had on the cold December day when his mother died. A day when at his tender age the world seemed to come crashing down in the same way it was now…back then it was him and his father. Back then, he could still rely on his father to be there for him, and he could be there for his father. Back then, they could still stand together.

Suddenly, his body froze. In the stillness of the room, he could feel the energy of that scream creep outwards…there was something else he felt as the tears continued to flow. Deep inside of the darkened chaos within him, was something that resonated with that time over a decade ago. Buried beneath years of life's scars was what in that delicate and innocent time burst forth so easily. Embedded in his hardened, battered heart was what echoed so readily with the one person that had to travel the very same dark and bitterly cold road with him.

A cry for help.

A cry for healing.

A cry for love.

Fox lay quietly. His breathing was shallow. The tears slowed. It felt as if his mind and his heart had, at least for a moment, been swept clean of the demons had slowly been tearing away at each fiber of his being, down to his very core. All at once, he felt he had been blinded by the obvious, as if heaven threw raw clarity straight at him…all along it had been coming to him, and each time he pushed away with what was likely a wall built upon pride and denial.

He whispered breathlessly "…Oh Jesus Christ…my God…what am I doing…"

He clenched his teeth. The tears flowed again. There was but a small, warm ember with him that was trying to come out. It caught onto something, and a small fire burned in him. He cried out not in despair, but in regret for the course he had been taking. He forgotten that back then, he did not fight alone, nor did his father…it remained true now. Coming up to his knees, he tightened his jaw and stared straight ahead. It was time to call out to someone, anyone, and fast…for now he was able to step away from the first element of a charge into oblivion. But he did not know how long this conscious state would last…he couldn't even understand how the brief correlation to the past brought such a drastic change. He only knew for sure that something kept him here, and he intended to find out why.

*****

Young troops filed through the streets, hopping from building to building to clear the area of the local insurgency. At the same time, fighters flew overhead, delivering well aimed bursts of laser fire at hardened positions when summoned. These were the infancy days of Corneria's central government, when the less populated areas in the far reaches of the Eurasian continents were ruled by local warlords, days when citizens of smaller provinces would find themselves harassed or outright attacked regularly as they tried to carry on with their daily lives.

Footage continued to play on the television, and Peppy continued to reminisce of his days as a young pilot when he still flew for the regular Air Force. It was another cold, quiet evening for him. His wife had left several days earlier to help the oldest son get things squared away for the holidays in time for the other children to converge on Christmas Day. Peppy opted to stay home and make sure affairs related to the household and Star Fox were taken care of before he went on vacation…much of the days were spent filling out expense reports and damage claims for the Cornerian Military, paying the hangar fees for the Great Fox, and taking care of the plants. Much of his nights were tuned into the seemingly endless supply of military documentaries, often accompanied with cold beer and warm snacks.

There was a knock at the door, jolting him out of his reminiscing. Peppy didn't recall having invited anyone over, and it was well pass the usual hour for anyone out selling magazines or the like. He turned off the television and set down his beer, hefting himself out of the ancient recliner to head over to the door. Sauntering up, he peered into the peephole: Fox was standing there.

"Oh, what?!" He threw open the door. "Fox, what the hell are you doing out at this hour, come in!"

Fox smiled shyly as he trudged into the house.

"Hey Peppy…sorry for barging in like that."

"No, no, not at all. How ya been, it's almost like you disappeared off the face of Corneria for awhile."

Fox managed another weak smile…ironic, he thought, that he tried so hard to do just that.

"Oh, well…it's been a little crazy lately," he mused as he slipped out of his shoes.

"I'd imagine…" Peppy scratched his head, somewhat lost for words. "Well, hey, you want a beer or something?"

"Yeah, beer sounds good."

"Have a seat over on the couch, I'll grab you one."

Fox nodded and took a seat while Peppy quickly went a couple rooms over to the kitchen to grab a couple more cans.

"I must apologize, all I got now is the cheap stuff," Peppy shouted out over the sounds of rummaging.

"No, no, not at all," Fox replied as he leaned into the squashed, almost threadbare couch. "I've got almost nothing at home, just some old MRE leftovers and things…"

Peppy had come back with a cold Old Corneria in each hand, passing one to Fox as he made his way back to the recliner.

"Sounds like your old man, didn't keep a whole lot around if he didn't have to…"

"Right…"

The two cracked the tabs on their drinks simultaneously, then taking a long swig of the light brew. Neither of them made the first move towards conversation, let alone small talk, due to a combination of dulled late night senses and the standing air of an unexpected visit...neither had made contact for several days. Peppy had thought about checking in on Fox, although he had gotten himself tied in the administrative affairs as of late…Looking over at Fox, he looked mostly the same, although he looked even more haggard with mussed up hair and baggy eyes.

"Boy, what've you been doing lately? Finally some wild parties?"

Fox let off a light chuckle. "No, no…just hanging around the house…" He cracked a small smile. "Would you believe I got that damned car of his running?"

Peppy's eyes widened. "You're shitting me…that would explain it, took him better part of two decades." He laughed.

"Yeah…I drove it over here…it was a fuse of all things…" Fox mused with a shake of his head and another long draw on his beer.

Peppy chuckled for awhile and eventually quieted…Fox ran a hand through his sloppy hair, and just remembered the singe he still had on there…he could only hope that it was overlooked somehow or could be written off as an accident. There was still a heaviness in the air, however, that preceded what looked to be a very frank exchange…

Peppy sighed.

"…Seriously though, Fox, what's up? I don't mind you dropping in, but I can't say I've ever seen you doing that before, least not like this…"

Fox didn't know what to immediately say. He himself wasn't expecting Peppy to be that direct, at least not immediately. There, however, wasn't a whole lot of ways he could dance around the subject.

"Well…yeah, you caught on quick. Stuff's been on my mind."

A pause.

"Heavy?"

And another.

"Quite."

"…'Bout your old man, ain't it?"

"It's related…"

Fox sighed, exasperated, and looked Peppy straight in the eye.

"I hope you don't mind me being blunt."

Peppy raised a hand.

"Not at all, m'boy, I'm old. I've seen most everything, sometimes quite colorfully."

"…Get yourself another beer, it's a long story."

*****

Admittedly, Fox told a long story, but he cut himself short. He didn't go so far to mention everything he tried doing after he finally fixed the car. He could barely put how he felt into thoughts in his own head, and could hardly be expected to put it into words. Talking about those other things…he could hardly believed it happened looking back, listening to himself.

Peppy stared into the distance, beyond the walls and the darkness outside. The still silence lasted at least a minute since Fox murmured "I wanted to die." Fox had dropped eye contact ages ago, only now looking up and seeing the frozen expression on Peppy's face. Within a few moments, Peppy stirred, slowly.

"…I think I'll need something stronger than a beer. Scotch on the rocks or something…you want some?"

"No thanks."

Peppy hefted himself out of his recliner and trudged off to the kitchen. Fox stayed planted on the couch, the clinking of glass and ice piercing his ears through the din of the lights and the hum of the heater. Again, although Peppy wasn't too far off, he felt alone with his thoughts.

'…_Was I wrong again?'_

Peppy came back into the room without a word, carrying a highball glass filled with ice and a golden liquid. He plopped himself into the seat, still staring ahead, and downed the entire glass in one go. The glass came down, and he exhaled heavily, eyes shut…he leaned back into his chair and sighed.

"God damn…"

Fox's eyes met the floor. "Peppy, I'm-"

Peppy waved him off with his hand and shook his head slowly. "No, no, you don't have to apologize, it's just that…" He paused, setting the glass down with a hard clink on the end table next to his chair, then leaned forward and planted his face into his hands, rubbing hard. "I swear…you McCloud boys are gonna be the death of this old man."

Fox's eyes shot over to Peppy, wide with surprise.

"What…?"

Peppy chuckled dryly and sat up, still shaking his head.

"Jeez…Fox, if you get yourself a son just like you, don't go pulling any stupid fighter jock shit that'll get ya killed until I report in to Saint Pete, I think two is my limit."

"What…Peppy," Fox stammered for words. "What the heck do you mean McCloud boys, there's just…"

It hit him…two McClouds.

_It can't be…_

Fox leaned back in his seat…Peppy was talking like it was déjà vu…

"You don't mean…"

Peppy nodded with a somber smile.

"Yeah…I'm talking about your dad…you were just a little tike, but, you must have some recollection of when your mom passed on?"

Fox did…a recollection of those feelings he had then brought him out here in the first place. His father…he too wanted healing, but how did it tie to Fox here and now?

"A bit, yeah…I remember a bit about the last day…what she said, and how Dad and I could only cry immediately after."

"I remember that too." He sighed. "Hardly two weeks, and almost to the word, maybe even to every move and minute, your father came here saying the same thing."

He felt like he was hit by a semi truck, overcome with shock and almost falling out of his seat, the thought going against all preconceptions he had of his father.

"The same thing?! No…Dad? But how could he…?"

Peppy nodded slowly.

"His world fell apart all around him…it became a cold, lonely place. He was filled with anger and grief. There seemed to be nothing left for him…"

Fox sat stock still…it was like his own story was being read back to him...of all the things he shared with his father, this was the last he would have noted, and certainly one he wished he hadn't. Peppy was still mulling on the thought…

"…Your mom, she meant everything and then some to James. At the very least, she was someone worth dying for, but more importantly, she was someone worth coming home for. When he lost her, he became blind to a lot of other things around him…" He sipped at the melting ice, laced with scotch. "At the time…he told me he didn't try anything stupid, anything crazy. But…to this day, I always felt that he must've come pretty damn close, especially to tell me."

Fox stared at his feet with not one blink…his body froze, his mind off track.

"…Jesus…Dad…but how could Dad…" Fox mumbled as he continued to come to terms with the thought. Peppy could only shrug.

"He's still a man. He's not a hero machine or anything. Hell…all that passion, all that feeling…had to be balanced out by the potential to fall just as low, I suppose…" He swirled his glass idly, thinking back long and hard…it was no easier for him to go back to that place and time. "Fox…I told him something that got him back to living again…you know what I said?"

Fox shook his head. Peppy sighed, sucked down and ice cube and chewed on it before he spoke again.

"What about the rest of us? All of your friends, and the people who rely on who? What about those who are dependent on you, look up to you, and have _only _you?"

No words were said…both of them were mesmerized in empty space. Peppy swallowed his ice cube, and set down his glass with a loud clink.

"What about Fox?"

Fox's eyes shot open, his body stiff and his breath halted…he could only hear that question echoing. He was given not just a glimpse, but a full exhibition of the blindingly obvious: His own father also felt like he lost his everything, and thus his will to live…but there were still people around him that also lost something, were also left behind. His father found purpose in what he found out that he still had…most importantly, someone whose loss was equal, was now counting on him to guide them through the dark.

His father, in his own darkest hour, lived for Fox.

Fox trembled.

"…Because…you reminded Dad that I…everyone was still there…"

Peppy nodded. "Go on…"

Fox became glassy eyed, struggling for expression. "…he kept living for all of us…for me…"

Peppy leaned forward. "So, Fox…do pardon me for being presumptuous but…" He had dawned on something…he didn't want to say it, but there was a point to be made. "…what kind of thanks would it be to your old man, if you tossed out your life so easily…when he kept living so you could have it?"

Fox gritted his teeth…Peppy closed his eyes.

"Your dad loved you boy…how do you wanna honor that?"

Fox had it then…the act broke. He sobbed not out of grief, but in remembrance of what he had then in his father and mother…recognition of what he had now in people who cared for him…and in regret that he even thought of, and went so far as trying to, throw it all away so easily.

It felt like he cried for a long time…his eyes and throat hurt when he came out of his fit upon impact from something on his head. He looked up, dazed and blinking, and saw a crumpled beer can on the floor. He looked up at Peppy, and saw a smirk on his face.

"Alright, alright, you had a good minute there…you squared away?"

Fox nodded…he felt a small but very real smile cross his face.

"…Thanks, Peppy…really…"

Peppy waved it off.

"It's what old guys do…now, I don't want to kick you out, but it does sound like you got some folks to talk to and things to do…"

"Yeah…I do…" Fox got up, rubbed his eyes and got himself together. He made for the door. "…him too eh?"

"Ohhhh yeah…"

"…Thanks again Peppy. Take care."

Fox was quickly out the door…Peppy could hear the car rumble to a start and drive off. He reclined into his chair, leaning back and sighing deeply, shutting his eyes.

"Chip off the old block…Lordy, James…you owe me again…"

To be Continued


	13. Chapter 12: Anew

"_I feel so alive."_

_ --Feel Alive, ATB_

Chapter 12: Anew

Fox was sitting quietly at a booth in the old diner near the Academy, a hot cup of coffee in hand staving off the cold air…it was one of the few places in full swing immediately after Christmas. Most of Corneria went into a holiday lull…he found himself more active in the last few days than in the entire month, taking Peppy's advice to heart. His first visit was the same night after he left Peppy's house, a cathedral not too far from his house…he had to talk heart to heart with a couple people.

That evening still lingered on his memory...he could still remember finding it open, hefting the heavy door…the scent of incense from the last service wafting through the air, and the haunting echo of his steps on the cold, stone floor reverberating off the high ceilings. He sat at one of the aging wooden pews up front, and kneeled on the floor…there were no kneeling pads there, and the hard floor pressed painfully into his knees. That was fine by him…it wasn't supposed to be easy.

He started saying _mea culpa _to God and generally apologized for what he was trying to do…then, although he couldn't have a two way conversation, he talked to his father, ruminating for a long time about everything that had happened in the last several weeks...there was a lot to say. He still cried a little, racked with guilt and remorse. There was no way around the fact that he'd effectively taken his father's own sacrifice for granted…Yet somehow, after going through that, his shoulders felt lighter, his conscience eased…he couldn't hear him, but Fox did feel as if someone gave him a pat on the back and the order to "bear down".

As tacky as it would sound to anyone he might tell it to, at that time he felt he had some kind of epiphany, tying back to what he'd been taught throughout his life and had hammered into him most recently at the academy...bearing down when times got tough, remembering those who came before, and no matter what happened, trying to keep on living with respect to those who sacrificed with the hope for the future.

Everything felt ok.

He could now take up arms, and live on his terms once more. That's where he found himself this morning, sipping at his coffee and flipping through Bill's Christmas gift, a small craft shop album filled with reprints of old photos he hadn't seen in ages. Bill had apparently dug through his collection for anything that had both of their families in there…a fine gesture. Some might say cliché, but sincere, a tangible display of a small number of people that his life was intimately tied to, a warm reminder of time shared together…there were even some real old pictures that had his mother and the boys in there. He had no idea that Bill had anything like this on hand…

The people in the pictures, Bill and his folks, himself, sometimes Slippy, and often his father…there were parties, trips, festivals at the air base, and the randomness of the everyday at home and in many a shop and museum…happy memories that, when in front of him, were numerous and didn't seem to happen all that long ago.

These were the times worth remembering, worth experiencing, worth defending, and worth living on for. Life at its best…his lens on life had changed drastically. Last night he acted independently for what felt like the first time. He decided to have the good life again…to have an honorable life as well…he had to seize control over whatever was in his control, while running with the blows that came at him and trusting that it would all pan out.

His reflection in the black coffee remained new yet very familiar…as did the three friends that had just joined him for breakfast. He looked up at the sound of their footsteps, and saw Bill, Slippy, and Falco. They gave him a smile, familiar yet as if they've not seen one another for some time…it had been in fact days, weeks even for most of them. Fox smiled backed naturally for the first time in just as long.

"Hey."

"Hey yourself," Falco replied. "Long time no see."

"How ya been, Fox?" Slippy asked.

Fox nodded. "Better lately…sorry I've been out of touch."

"Hey Fox," Bill chimed, "You open your present yet?"

Fox nodded again, smiling wistfully and tapping on the album. "Yeah, thanks a lot."

The attractive young feline waitress that was hovering around came by shortly for the new orders, a full round of the morning special. Their eyes trailed from her departing figure, back to the table, and they sat quietly for a few moments. Bill looked up at Fox and noted a thoughtful gaze on his face, the same one he'd been seeing rather often lately.

"Uh, Fox? TacCom to Fox?"

Fox looked up suddenly, knocked out of his personal world. "Hmm?"

"You've got that look again. What's up?"

"What look?" Slippy asked.

Fox shrugged. "Don't worry about it, Slip. Just…well, there's a couple reasons I asked you guys out here, besides the eventuality of buying your meals."

Falco raised an eyebrow. "Yeah? Anything heavy?"

Another shrug and a subtle smirk. "Maybe. Depends how you feel…"

Bill furrowed his brow slightly…he wondered if what happened over the last week would come up. Fox kept going after a pause.

"First off, I owe all of you a general apology for being out of touch, for the extended period of gloom, and in general being a self centered ass the last several weeks. I could go into monologue…but I'll leave it at that."

Falco and Slippy started stammering their surprised responses, never having had the thought cross their mind. A corner of Bill's lip crept upwards, admittedly a little happy that the worst of it was remaining need to know and that he was back on track. Fox held up his hand to quiet the other two down.

"No no no, you don't have to apologize for anything…besides, I wouldn't classify that as the heavy stuff."

"Well what the hell is it then?" Falco shot back sarcastically.

Fox struck a grin. "Any of you thought about your assignments after the Academy?"

At that moment, his tablemates became simultaneously lost for words. Their eyes didn't move, even as the waitress came by with their coffees flashing another smile.

Falco, caught in a rare moment without a comeback, furrowed his brow at the question. "Well…dude, you know how it is, I want to fly fast movers but I don't know if my grades are gonna cut it even for the heavies."

Bill shrugged. "Go flying someplace I guess."

Slippy nodded. "Engineering around here…same stuff we always talked about, why?"

Fox smiled, amused…he looked up with a big toothy grin, like a kid with a big secret.

"Gents...I've got a little business proposition for you…"

*****

"You want to what?!"

General Pepper had just about dropped his cup of tea, the contents spilling out on the saucer he had been holding. He quickly set it down. Fox still stood quietly at parade rest…he'd managed to secure an appointment with him in his function as commandant of the Academy, likely eased by his father's old connection but he didn't want to agitate matters too much.

"Sir, I wanted to review the terms of my military service obligation upon graduation, with the interest of pursuing career as a private practitioner of combat aerospace operations and general space surveying, with of course, a commitment to the security goals and public interests of Corneria."

General Pepper set his tea saucer down on the desk, leaned far back into his oversized leather chair, staring towards his desk as he rubbed his temple. The ticking of a clock on a nearby mantle echoed throughout the cavernous office. Fox remained still, but couldn't help an occasional shiver up his back…he had no conception of what could come of this, but something within him pushed him to ask for this. General Pepper sighed and leaned forward onto the desk.

"So…you're asking, quite formally, if you can be a mercenary…" Pepper looked up at Fox. "And, I'm assuming, if you can take over your father's business?"

Fox gulped quietly, still maintaining his bearing. "…That's correct, sir."

General Pepper nodded, and drummed his fingers together. He stared off into space, clearly thinking about it, although he couldn't hide the small measure of amusement he felt at the idea.

"Hmm…the second generation of StarFox…" Pepper pushed back out of his chair and stood up, beginning to pace behind his desk. "I still remember when it started up…your father finished his service commitment…struck out on his own, maverick he was, and recruited some of his contemporaries…" He quietly laughed. "I'm still amazed how he got it all off the ground, but, I suppose friends in industry that need equipment tests help, as well as one of a start in counter-piracy…"

Fox didn't nod, but everything sounded about right…his father never said much about the early days, but, somehow it all seemed in character. The General came to a stop in front of his massive window, overlooking the grounds of the Academy and the Headquarters complex for Cornerian forces…he sighed deeply.

"Well, obviously we'd like to keep a talented flyer such as yourself, but…at the same time, I do know you may be the type to thrive under your own equipment and standard ops procedures..."

Not much of an answer so far…Fox felt a cold sweat, not much unlike his interview to be admitted to the Academy when he had to stand in front of a board and give his version of why he was qualified…he hadn't felt that in years.

"Cadet McCloud?"

Fox shot back to attention. "Yes, sir?"

"…When I first commissioned, I remember that was a time we were short on forces, had little to nothing to offer our men in benefits and equipment beyond their own personal satisfaction. The planetary force was still very much in early development, let alone a dedicated arm to space combat…frankly, that's still very much a work in progrees..." General Pepper turned to face him. "Have you ever heard of the Privateer Service Act?"

"…No, sir."

General Pepper nodded. "I'd imagine not, the bill is getting to be 30 years old and they'd just as soon keep it a special unpublished service option…do you follow so far?"

This was big news… "Yes, sir."

"Good…" General Pepper started his pacing again and waved his hand about. "So, the long and short of it is, we already utilize privateers on contract for specialized work such as exploration of space sectors where military space cruisers are ill suited for the task, or for supplementary forces to regular patrols for combating piracy and, more recently, general hostile attacks from rogue organizations by the likes of Andross. Back then we also had at times a shortage of officer slots, or couldn't get talented people to stay in training or join in the first place. We'd pay these privateers well and give them steady work so long as they kept their end of the deal and didn't ever work against Corneria…

"Now…we also had those who were just plain motivated enough to strike out on their own after more formal training, albeit they sacrificed retirement pay and other formal military benefits beyond what was stipulated in any job contracts…" General Pepper looked up at him. "They were called privateer option cadets. Clear so far?"

"Crystal, sir."

"…we did have a couple of those in my class, way back when…we haven't had anyone graduate with that classification in many years, but…I suppose such a thing was due to happen anyway…" General Pepper leaned forward, his voice quieting yet intensifying. "…_if_ you agree to the terms."

Fox processed that for a few moments, digging past the carefully chosen wording to get at the core message…he would've smiled if he could. Questions of service obligation and paying the government back for his education was the one hang up he could think of in his venture towards a new StarFox. The General, it seemed, gave him his exception.

"Sir, those terms sound agreeable."

General Pepper nodded. "I presume you've enlisted additional manpower for your venture?"

"…that's correct, sir."

General Pepper sat down again in his chair and sighed, rubbing his temple. "Little do you know McCloud, you drive a hard bargain…believe it or not, there's still benefit for the military in having reliable private forces to call upon." He leaned far back and held his hands together. "That's all I'll need you for McCloud…I'll see to it you get the necessary forms and write ups sent to your data net account. Give my secretary the names of your compatriots and I'll see to it they receive the same package. Dismissed."

Fox, though frozen in place momentarily out of surprise, delivered a snappy salute and executed an about face before leaving out of the familiar double doors into a reality that was, for all intents and purposes, quite different from what he had envisioned but a week ago…

*****

It was quite possibly a perfect spring day at the Academy grounds, the air crisp and pleasant, the sun casting a pleasantly warm glow, the trees, flowers and cherry blossoms in full bloom. A great sea of cadets was gathered in the main quadrangle, sharply donned in their black dress uniforms, colorful ribbon racks and ornamentation providing contrast. They stood at attention not for formality or grievance, but for celebration of their accomplishment…they were the commissioning class of that year, ready to lead where Corneria needed them.

After a long procession of present and retired officers, civilians from many reaches of governments, and finally General Pepper himself, all of whom offering their nuggets of experience, words of encouragement, and praise for the future that stood before them, the cadets were given their final dismissal from an academy function. A cloud of round service caps ascended into the air atop the cheers and shouts of celebration. Into the air went their status as cadets and trainees, leaving them with the recognition of officer rank.

A lavish reception followed in the banquet hall of the nearby headquarters building, mountains of finger foods lined with countless glasses of champagne as old classmates milled about, sharing last minute contact information, signing yearbooks, and sharing in the excitement of their coming careers…in this talk was also discussion of the small selection of special assignments that were given, namely positions in headquarters, development, or high positions in smaller bases right out of the gates. Among these, Cadet William Grey was given command of a squadron at the newly built forward operating base on Katina for his excellent pilot aptitude. Cadets Falco Lombardi, Slippy Toad, and Fox McCloud were recognized for their initiative in accepting privateer status. The last three were of greatest interest to the cadets…it was impressive, certainly, to be given command so quickly, but for a highly independent maverick, a brilliant engineer, and the son of a legendary pilot to strike out on their own, as a group no less, was not a common occurrence. They did not look down upon this, however, and admired them in a sense for being able to live largely free of the military bureaucracy and possessing a greater freedom in innovation…

The old friends were gathered once again, huddled off in a corner away from the hustle and bustle as they nursed their drinks and accepted the good wishes from their comrades that passed by. They were happy, yet also looking towards the future in greater silence. Fox stared at the champagne bubbles in his glass float upwards, and drummed his fingers on the pommel of his saber.

"…Well…here we are. We did it."

Falco nodded. "Admittedly…didn't quite see this one coming."

Slippy chimed in. "What, going into business?"

"Hell no man, that's the damn icing on the cake, I didn't think I'd get that C- in Calculus and Aerospace Tech, that's what! Thought for sure I'd have to win the lottery to pay back the tuition or go on an eight year tour of janitor duty on Fortuna."

"This is true…" Slippy whispered, quite aware of the irony.

Bill was cracking up at the exchange. "Jesus…I'll admit it, if it weren't for that bumped up assignment and Dad's threats on my inheritance I would've liked to join you guys…check your six out there, ok?"

Fox shrugged. "Hey, always a retirement job, I chatted with Peppy the other night, he's on board."

Bill raised an eyebrow "Really? Shit, didn't think he'd want to strap in again after last winter."

"Yeah…well…" Fox picked up his glass as he searched for the words. "Guy loves what he does."

"When's opening day?"

"Mmm!" Fox swallowed his last sip fast. "Slip, did you hear from your dad on the hardware?"

Slippy nodded excitedly. "Yeah! His company has some older Arwing frames fitted with a retuned G-Diffuser and avionics package, plus a mod configuration for that old cruiser you mentioned…its got some kind of automated maintenance system, upgraded defense cannons and onboard supply drop for the hangar area…said they could set us up in two weeks once they got test approval from the military contracting office."

Fox sported a huge grin. "That's. So. Cool!"

"Dad said to go get some hands on fieldwork experience, I'm not arguing!"

They all laughed…for all the seriousness of the pomp and circumstance, they were still at heart boys with dreams…

*****

The sky overhead was a deep, cloudless blue, almost as if the was now above him. The sun smiled upon the smooth tarmac that radiated to his feet a warm welcome. Fox walked along it with an easy gait towards the hulking shape in the distance that was new yet familiar…the Great Fox from his young memories. Today was his first visit since formally transferring the title of the ship to his name, as well as ownership of StarFox…it was time for a walk around of the ship, to start thinking about where to park the Arwings, as well as the tank and sub Slippy had mentioned…part of the deal in getting the fighters was acting as a test bed for a multi-theatre assault carrier concept that could project power at land, sea, and air across the Lylat system…not a bad model to follow either for "private practitioners" that would take on any job of good cause.

Although he still had a ways to walk before going through the terminal building and the jet way to the ship, he could already make out the "StarFox" tail marker and script on the side of the ship…a wing red fox seemed to charge forward into space and the future, an appropriate representation for where he wanted to go.

A deafening roar sounded over head, giving him pause. He saw a four ship formation from the Cornerian fighter wing take flight…he smiled quietly. It would be them up there soon, Peppy too even. He was living the dream…his father could not be there to enjoy it with him. It tugged at him, but he could still smile. Fox could feel now, stronger than ever, something of his father still lingering in those limitless skies. Months ago he wouldn't have expected any of this…making himself a family business right out of the academy, bringing in some buddies and step-in uncle, following his old man in memory…somehow though…it all seemed alright. From the darkest of nights rose a new beginning…and though the world remained imperfect, he could see hope in this path. In this, he saw a reason for all of this, his role in the continuing drama of life…he would do his damndest to protect what was good, innocent, and just in his small part of the galaxy.

This, is what he had left to cherish, left to defend for the greater good. This, was how he could best honor his father, his mother, all who came before…no matter what evils may be out there, no matter the challenges he would have to face. He overcame the darkest of enemies deep from within himself, that which threatened to consume him to the core.

Nothing would stop him now.

"_Can you see me now, Dad? I'm flying…"_

~Fin~


	14. Author's Note

A message from the author

Dear Readers,

It has been several years since I started this project…assuming a start in middle school, roughly eight or nine years. My God, I didn't imagine then it would take this long…of course, there were times I thought it would never be finished, between the drama and grind that was high school, the harrowing times of college admissions, and the ongoing challenge of time management, leadership, through my turbulent time transferring universities, and keeping it all together as a college student and cadet in Air Force ROTC. Lets also not forget about the every present specter of procrastination…lots and lots of procrastination…

This story has been written in many places at many times in these years…it moved back and forth between an old desktop and an especially ancient laptop on floppy disk. A couple paragraphs were scrawled in a notebook on the way to a Boy Scout camp out and other road trips. More was typed on the way to San Antonio, on new desktops and laptops right here at home and during over nights at friend houses. Big pushes were made at the dorms of Seattle University, in my one bedroom apartment in North Seattle, on a plane to Seoul, in the dorm of Sogang University, out at Cannon Beach, some more progress made at my current abode in Seattle's University District, a bit in the Air Force lounge at the University of Washington, and finally the story ended where it all began. Here at home, in a Portland suburb, on a laptop.

You can probably see this change happen over the story…I could see my style change and grow over the course of the project, and God willing it's at its best here at the end (despite my efforts to power through).

So, what's next? Well, I've definitely considered doing a Redux version of this, with the writing style nicely standardized. Or, move on to other projects…I've got another idea for the StarFox universe (I wouldn't mind taking a shot at a Fox/Krystal storyline and some new ground in a little romance)…or, explore the FF7 universe a bit. Or, in the face of a three week Winter Break, I'm thinking of striking out on my own and starting on an original novel. Who knows...I just know I'd like to do this again. Don't worry, I won't give you little snippets over an eight year period again! I'm definitely leaning towards one fat release for the next one…I'm thankful for the coming prospect of a job with relatively definite hours.

Regardless, who knows what the coming years will bring…I know for sure I'm a different person today than I was eight years ago, and I can only imagine where I'll be writing my next story, given the Air Force's tendency to send folks the world over. I do know for sure though, I would like to do this again, and again…until, hey, I might get that dream gig of writing stories for games.

Most importantly however, I want to give my most sincere thanks to all of you readers out there that, when presented with so many choices out there, chose to sit down and read through my work. For those of you that have followed this project from the very beginning up until now, big time props to you (shout out to my buddy Andrew and to the others of you repeat reviewers that prodded me along to finish this!) If it were not for the kind words and feedback from each and every one of you…well, I probably wouldn't have gotten to this note.

I welcome any and all constructive feedback (the core of all improvement), and do hope sincerely that some of you will be back for the next release, or at the very least take away the memories, maybe even the inspiration to go out there into the open frontier of the net and make your own story?

Again, my sincere thanks…may you all have a blessed holiday season and enjoy the best of luck in the new year…always learn from your experiences, do the best you can in all you do, and keep right on chasing your dreams…

Raymond M. Sienkiewicz (RaymondS)

December 12, 2009

Lake Oswego, Oregon, USA


End file.
